


Origin Story

by Geonn



Series: Heroes of the Jade City [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1910s, Alternate History, F/F, Origin Story, Seattle, Steampunk, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A superhero in turn-of-the-century Seattle chronicles her life and the road that led to her putting on a mask. (Continuation of my story "Stigmata Martyr")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I won’t tell you my name. The newspapers call me Carapace and, while it’s hardly the name I would have chosen for myself, it’s certainly apt. I won’t reveal my identity within these pages so anyone who stumbles upon this and hopes for some sort of revelation, I’m sorry to disappoint you. But recent events have reminded me that even with all of these gadgets, even with all the precautions I’ve taken, I’m still human. I can still be hurt. 

Isaiah warned me that something like this would happen. I had the upper hand for a long time, taking down people who couldn’t hope to compete with me thanks to his inventions. I could make ten-foot vertical leaps, I had weapons strapped to my arms, I was faster and stronger and I wore armor that protected me from the worst of their blasts. The first time my arm was grazed by a bullet was a wake-up call. I assumed that was what Isaiah was talking about when he warned me I was vulnerable. Little did I know I was still fast asleep. 

The real awakening came with a woman calling herself Stratagem. Her armor was better, her weapons stronger, and I was completely outmatched by her. If it hadn’t been for Aline’s reckless intervention I would have died there on the floor. It was a close call even with her dragging me all the way home. I owe her my life. I owe her everything, really, as Carapace would never have been as successful without her stories.

When I tried to reveal my true identity to her, she refused to look. I can understand her reluctance. In lieu of unmasking perhaps, in the event of some calamity preventing me from explaining myself in the future, I can provide some sort of understanding without taking the extra step to identify who I am. It forces me to be vague, and there are certain things like my day-to-day job and certain interactions that I can’t even allude to without inadvertently giving myself away. Hopefully I can walk that fine line.

I’ll begin with Isaiah McKeon, seeing as he’s the most important person in my life. I was a child when the fire destroyed our city. My father was a firefighter and of course he was summoned to help battle the blaze. My mother was a highly Christian woman who insisted the flames were retribution from God for our sins. She insisted that people who embraced the Holy Spirit would be untouched by the fire and knelt in front of our large crucifix to pray as the fire grew ever closer. She tried to hold me by her side, but I became scared and ran away. She yelled after me but refused to move from the position of worship for fear that God would think she had lost her faith. When I went back for her, I thought she was still praying. Later I learned that bodies just end up in that position when they’re burnt so badly. I was happy for her in some macabre way; she never had to stop praying.

My father disappeared. I never knew if he died in the fire, if he simply took the opportunity to flee (he and Mama never exactly saw eye to eye, and I felt like the glue that was forcing them together). If the latter, I’d like to think he would have stayed if only he’d known Mama died in the fire. Either way he was gone and, when the city finally cooled down, I was alone. 

I hid in old buildings, keeping quiet when the machines came and began to build a new city above my head. They buried me alive, but they left me with catacombs and caverns to explore. I scrounged for food... nothing new, since I often had to feed myself when Mama was on one of her prayer binges. I found a safe place to sleep and I kept my head down. Soon other people showed up and we banded together to protect each other. 

I found Isaiah by accident. We’d heard rumors of an inventor who remained Underground when the city rose up, but none of us had ever seen him. We dared each other to go looking for him, to test the boundaries of our safe haven, but none of us were brave enough. I happened to be in the right place at the right time when Isaiah appeared in search of a cable splitter. We were both digging around the same pile of discarded garbage and, once he determined I wasn’t a killer and I decided he wasn’t going to attack me, I took him to find it. As a reward he gave me a small metal disc that would send an electrical charge through anyone I hit with it.

“In case you run into someone less kind than I am.”

I kept the device on me at all times, and I credit it for saving me from men on at least four occasions before I went in search of Isaiah again. I found his lab by following the trail of ransacked tech dumps in the area. Once I knew what to look for it was as easy as following breadcrumbs. He didn’t even look surprised when I walked into his lab, the bastard. Like he expected me and was a little disappointed I had taken so long.

He taught me about his inventions. I asked why he had stayed below when the city rose. The things he spent so long trying to find in the trash were readily available on the surface. But he got a dark look in his eyes. “Some people can’t afford to ascend with the city,” he said, and he left it at that. I had no reasons not to go up and told him if he ever needed something and couldn’t find it, that I would go up for him. He immediately began composing a list, and I went up for the first time that night.

The entire city had become something alien while I was underground. It was night but I still felt like I had to cover my eyes against the brightness. Glass buildings bounced the moonlight off the sea, and electric lights seemed to be on every street corner. I quickly acquired the items from Isaiah’s list and then fled back underground as quickly as I could.

I became his apprentice. He taught me everything I need to know about his work, and soon I was welding some of his designs together while he worked on the bigger blueprints. We built vehicles, little carriages that my tunnel rat friends could use to quickly get from one part of the city to the other. We set up a system of lights so we didn’t have to carry flashlights everywhere. One of the rats, a boy named Jiang, had his leg crushed by a cave-in. Isaiah amputated the useless limb and replaced it with a mechanical one. It was all I could do to convince the dumb kid not to crush his other leg so he could have a matching set.

When I was sixteen I made a pass at Isaiah. I kissed him and he very gently pushed me away. I was pissed at him for a long time after that, but eventually I came to understand how wrong I was. Not to mention how easily he could have taken advantage of me. By that time I was making more frequent journeys to the surface. I was more comfortable among the people, and with sunlight, and soon I started questioning Isaiah about how I could live up there. I felt like I was betraying my friends, but Isaiah said that we all had to make our own choices. If living topside felt right to me, he promised to help me.

After that, I grew up. I became a person. Revealing details of that journey would implicate my true self, so I won’t go into it. The important things that happened during this period were slow-burning and boring. I educated myself enough to get gainful employment, and a woman I had befriended became something more. I was perfectly comfortable with the knowledge I was falling in love with her, but I hesitated because I had no idea how she would react. I finally confessed everything to her and we went to bed together.

I suppose the next question I should address is when I decided to become Carapace. Even though I absconded to the surface - a job, a girlfriend, an apartment thirty feet above the ground - I maintained ties with those I left behind. Isaiah was the closest thing I had to a father and I refused to turn my back on him. He mentioned that he was working on a prototype of armor that he hoped to provide to the police once he was certain it worked correctly. I was skeptical. It was already apparent that the police only protected and served those with deep enough pockets to supplement their income. Crime was soaring but no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

I was seated on the table in Isaiah’s lab during one of our weekly chats, holding the first breastplate he had produced. I used my thumb to rub away a few blemishes on the metal and looked down at my reflection. “If you really want to make a difference, you should hand these out to civilians. There are people out there who want to make a difference but they don’t have a badge or the strength of the police department backing them up. Maybe if they had armor they wouldn’t be so willing to turn a blind eye. Hell, you give me one of these armored vests, I’d go out there tonight.”

“Do you mean that?” Isaiah asked.

At the time I wasn’t entirely sure. But the truth was I’d seen the city becoming more corrupt. My neighbors were afraid to go outside after dark. They locked their doors and cowered in their homes. What kind of life was that? We were in a prison while the criminals had control of the streets. A few nights earlier I had cowered in bed with my girlfriend when we heard someone shouting in the alley below. The shouts didn’t last long, and the silence that followed was even more terrifying.

“Yes, I do,” I told him.

He said, “Well... maybe I can see what I can do. But if you’re going out, you’re going to wear a mask.”

I wrinkled my nose. “A mask?”

“Like you said, a vigilante won’t have the protection of a badge. What would stop the criminals from just following you home and taking their revenge? The mask will give you freedom to intervene without worrying about retribution.”

“So I’ll still be hiding.”

“You’ll be keeping yourself safe. There’s a vast difference between the two.”

It seemed like a lark, but Isaiah promised he would get to work on a breastplate for me. In the event something really did happen, I started training. I spent so long at the gym my girlfriend eventually left me. It took me almost two weeks before I realized she wasn’t coming around much anymore, and another few days before I bothered to go see if she was okay. By that time she already had a new girlfriend. I couldn’t complain too much; I just went back to the gym and focused on getting into shape. 

It became my sole focus outside of work, and soon my dedication was showing dividends. I was strong, I was faster, and I felt bulletproof. Fortunately my profession allowed me to wear long sleeves that disguised just how toned my arms had become. I stopped riding the streetcar because it was cheaper and less of a hassle to just run to work. I would change in the bathroom when I arrived and change back into my sweat-clothes when I left.

Isaiah had one of my former tunnel rat cronies take my measurements to spare him the embarrassment of “getting his hands on me,” although having Archie do it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for anyone involved. He formed the breastplate specifically for me, and it fit like a glove. It was heavy enough that I knew it would have been an issue just a few weeks earlier, but by that point I could bear it. We tested it first with baseball bats before moving up to heavier artillery. He had blasters and energy weapons that made my hair stand on end, but the damaging power of it was perfectly dispersed by the armor.

When Isaiah was convinced I would be protected physically, we began focusing on protecting my identity. The metallic mask he designed made it impossible for me to breathe, and even with a vent cut into it, I would still get far too hot too quickly for it to be much use. The gas mask wasn’t much better but we found a way to cut off the filter and replace it with a gauzy cloth that allowed air flow. Isaiah tinted the glass over each eye so they would be opaque, and I began wearing the mask whenever I was underground so I could get used to it. If I was comfortable wearing the mask and being half-blinded in the dank darkness, being up in the open air would be no problem.

He built accessories that would make me more formidable, and I trained. I learned how to fight with the other rats, goading them until they were mad enough not to pull their punches. I was punched in the face on several occasions, I had broken bones and black eyes. Those were just part of the practice; once I was fighting crime for real, I would have to deal with pain and visible injuries when I went back to my day job. The training helped me smile through the pain of a bruised rib or concussion. I figured out how to use my makeup to cover black eyes without being too obvious about it.

On Fridays I would go into Isaiah’s lab to see what he’d concocted for me that week. “Leather gloves,” he said, holding them up for inspection. “They appear ordinary, but the fingers are reinforced with metal shields sewn in. Try not to get them caught in anything or they’ll turn your fingers into mush.”

“I’ll try to be careful,” I said.

The jet-propelled boots were too powerful at first. They sent the mannequin careening head-first into a stone wall. Isaiah tinkered and fussed with the amount of power they emitted until they worked perfectly as boosters. We found a stretch of tunnel without a ceiling and I practiced bouncing. It was one of the most gleeful moments of my life, bounding back and forth in my new boots, laughing as I nearly caromed into the wall. The rockets were activated by applying pressure to a certain part of the boot, and it took a lot of experimenting to hit it just right. I also had to avoid triggering it when I was trying to walk or else it might cause a hiccup in my step.

I was sore most of the time, when I wasn’t outright injured. But soon I was strong enough to shake off the rats, I could take a punch without falling down, and I was able to knock most of my friends on their asses without breaking a sweat. When the weighted gloves were added to the equation I became a true force to be reckoned with.

Eager to take our experiment to the next level, I began keeping my eyes peeled for crime. The rats were a terrific source of information. They were scroungers and buskers, the invisibles on every street corner selling newspapers to earn a penny at the end of the day. People tended to ignore them because they were small, but even the smallest rat had eyes. I pinned up a map in the room I kept in the catacombs and, based on their reports, I began marking territories. 

The name Mordecai Stringer popped up early and often. There were others in charge of the trade, smugglers and thieves who had a certain amount of power, but Stringer stood tall at the apex. I knew that if I could take him down it would make a serious difference in the city. I also knew that going after him directly was suicide. Sparring with rats was one thing but it was quite another to attack someone who truly intended to kill me. 

And so I started small. I walked in my daylight world for my job, I maintained friendships and feigned disinterest whenever I was asked out with friends. My nights didn’t belong to me any longer. I would don the mask - which was actually quite comfortable when the weather began turning cold - and stalked the alleyways until I was called upon to act. 

Outside a bar in downtown, I pulled a man off his shrieking victim. I misjudged my strength and caused serious internal damage when I hit him in the stomach, but if there was a human being who deserved to be a guinea pig... I left him gasping and wheezing in the alley and escorted the woman back to a safe area. She gripped my arm, which at that point had yet to be wrapped in the thick leather of the coat I would eventually don.

“Wait... who are you?”

“That’s not important.”

Her grip tightened. “It is to me.”

I thought for a moment and covered her hand with mine. “I’m someone who cares. Someone who has heard enough screams to go unanswered and I’m going to do something about it.”

“Thank you.”

I nodded my head and looked up to see someone coming out of the tavern. “Is he...?”

She nodded. “Yes. That’s Micah. Micah! Hurry! Help!”

I slipped out of her grasp and retreated into the shadows. Micah sped up slightly; he had obviously seen me standing with his friend and assumed I was the threat. He reached her and she stopped him from pursuing as I slipped into the nearest alleyway. I used the boots to propel myself up to the first level of the fire escape; it was nearly too high, and I ended up dangling from the edge until I could pull myself the rest of the way up. 

The rooftop was shielded on three sides by neighboring buildings, but on the fourth I could see out over the water. I stood on the ledge - reckless, but I couldn’t resist the urge. I felt invincible. I smiled underneath my mask and looked down at the glittering city that had risen from the ashes of the one I knew. It looked so bright and perfect despite the darkness seeping in around the edges. I had prevented one tendril of that darkness from getting a foothold. I’d sent it back and saved a woman’s life.

In the morning the first newspaper article about a “super-hero,” exaggerated but wholly positive. Isaiah had been skeptical about publicity but I felt it was a necessary evil. I could strike terror in the hearts of the criminal element without ever fighting them. They deserved to know that someone was pushing back against them.

It would still be a while before I was given the name “Carapace,” but on that night I knew I had finally found my true identity. After years of searching for a purpose I knew why I had survived the great fire when so many had not. My reverie was interrupted by the sound of a police whistle a few streets away. I stepped off the ledge and ran, leaping from one rooftop to the next with the aid of my boosters. 

Somewhere, someone needed my help. I knew I wouldn’t be able to save everyone, to stop every crime, but I was determined to be there as often as I could.


	2. Chapter 2

At first I was simply a mystery. I was satisfied with being an urban myth, a scary story criminals told to themselves before going out to commit crimes. My friends in the rat network kept me apprised of movement and suspicious activity throughout the city. Stringer’s men often staked out the places they planned to hit and my spies allowed me to be in place when the time was right to stop them. A few of the rats wanted to do more so I helped find them places in the “above world,” as they called it. 

Some of them wanted to infiltrate Stringer’s network, but Isaiah and I both vehemently struck down that idea. It was too much risk for too small a reward. Our precaution proved necessary a few weeks later when the police found three of Stringer’s formerly trusted lieutenants floating in Puget Sound. They were missing their eyes and tongues, an obvious message to any moles in the organization that disloyalty would be dealt with in the harshest manner imaginable.

Even our corrupt police couldn’t ignore three bodies found floating in the water, but Stringer had contingencies for that. One of his men served as a sacrificial lamb for the police to arrest and put on trial for the murders. A low-ranking associate named Harlow Sutherland was swiftly arrested and charged with the murders, and the people of the city were cowed into thinking the matter was resolved. I knew there was something more, so I dug deeper into Mr. Sutherland’s life to see why he would sacrifice his freedom for a man like Stringer.

I discovered that his little brother owned a restaurant that was on the verge of going under and his rent was several months overdue. I snuck into his apartment while he was at work and saw evidence of a family preparing to flee in the night. Something made them stay. A few days later the eviction notices were off their front door and the defeated slump left the younger Sutherland’s shoulders. It was obvious to me that Harlow Sutherland had sacrificed his freedom in exchange for the money to pay his brother’s debts.

The trial was already set, a sure sign that Sutherland was going to be railroaded. The assistant district attorney was a woman named Bess Callan. People in Seattle were still getting accustomed to the idea of women in positions of power. We were doctors, police officers, lawyers, while women in the rest of the country were still relegated to the kitchen or, at best, nurses and secretaries. The men were busy with industry and piloting airships, the men were working at the harbor struggling to keep up with the flood of imports from all around the world, so employers were forced to ‘make do’ with women.

I had one of the rats follow ADA Callan from her offices and got the address from him. The night before Sutherland’s trial I was waiting when she got home from work. She shut the door behind her and twisted the lock before turning on the light. As the bulb warmed and filled the room with a subtle and tawny glow, I broke my silence.

“Don’t be frightened.”

She turned quickly and brought her hand up as her jacket fell. I wasn’t startled by the gun; the rat who followed her told me she was armed. I held up my hands to show I didn’t plan to hurt her. She still wore a navy blue business suit over a white blouse, her necktie thin and red like a narrow wound running down the middle of her chest. At work she wore her pale blonde hair in a braid but she had already loosened it before coming inside. It hung around her face in tight waves from being bound all day.

She narrowed her eyes and aimed the weapon at the ceiling as she ran her eyes down my outfit. I saw the realization hit as her eyes returned to my face. 

“Oh my gosh,” she said softly. “You’re her. That woman they’re talking about in the paper. What is it they call you?”

“Carapace,” I said.

“Right. So... you’re real.” She put the gun down on a little half-wall that jutted out from next to the door. “Ain’t that a pip?”

“I’m here because you’re sending the wrong man to prison.”

She laughed. “Don’t I know it. If there was any justice in the world, I would be putting Mordecai Stringer behind bars. But he’s untouchable. I doubt he actually pulled the trigger himself, anyway. If we could tie him to some sort of murder for hire arrangement...”

I said, “Sutherland had nothing to do with the murders. He’s only taking the fall because Stringer paid him off.”

Bess crossed to the kitchen and opened the icebox. She took out a bottle of beer and held it out to me. I shook my head and she popped the top on a wall-mounted opener.

“We looked into his financials,” she said after she took a drink. “No unusual deposits reported.”

“The money went to Sutherland’s brother. He owns a restaurant, he was behind on his rent, and suddenly he’s flush.”

Bess sat on the edge of an armchair and leaned forward to take off her shoes. I was a little flummoxed at her casual demeanor, but it was better than hysterics. She rubbed the arch of her right foot and then slid back in the seat.

“We know about his brother. The money allegedly came from their parents and we can’t disprove that theory. They gave us a bad guy. We’re doing the best with what we have.”

I stepped forward. “You’re willing to send the wrong man to prison?”

“The wrong man? It depends. It depends on if that man is innocent.” She leaned forward and aimed her bottle at me. “Do you know who Harlow Sutherland really is? First off, he’s a member of Stringer’s inner circle, so you know his hands are anything but clean. He may not have killed these three people but he certainly had a hand in something despicable. I’m putting a member of his cadre behind bars. I’m not going to worry about the specifics and just take the victory.”

I worked my jaw behind the mask and wished I could have taken her up on the offer of a drink. She mistook my silence for judgment.

“Look, we can’t all be you... running around with our neat gadgets, beating up the bad guys. You need a sidekick? Got another one of those masks I could borrow?”

“I...”

Bess chuckled and shook her head. “Forget it. I’m just frustrated. This whole trial is a farce. We know we’re prosecuting the wrong guy, his lawyers aren’t even trying to defend him, and the goddamn judge will probably fall asleep until it’s time for him to give the ruling. I’m frustrated and angry and you walk in here acting like you’re the only one who’s sick of the way this town is going downhill.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could possibly say at the moment, though I knew it was wholly insufficient.

“Apology accepted.” She reached up and pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Now that we have all that out of the way... I want your help. I was joking about the sidekick thing, but I really do think we could be a great help to each other. I hear sometimes hear things I can’t use, and I think you could make a difference with the information.”

“Is that ethical?”

She laughed. “Ethical was thrown out the window in this city a long time ago. We do what we have to do.”

“So the ends justify the means.”

“If we keep playing by the book, we have a serious disadvantage and we will end up losing. Maybe that mask of yours gives us the leeway to twist the rules just a little bit. Just enough to even the odds a little. We’re not going to plunge the depths Stringer and goons have, but we can be flexible.”

I sighed. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”

She stood up and rolled her shoulders, eyes closed. “I don’t care. I made the offer and you’re free to accept it or ignore it. Now I’ve had a long and frustrating day and I want to take a bath. Feel free to let yourself out however you got in.”

I watched her go into the other room before I walked to her window. I pushed up the glass, crouched, and stepped out onto the fire escape. I made sure to lock the window behind me before I ascended to the roof. Bess had a point; I wore a mask and hid my identity to protect myself from retribution by the criminals I took down, but it also protected me from the law. If I wanted to make a real difference I needed to do everything in my power. Having a lawyer in my corner could act as a bellwether to make sure I didn’t stray too far off the path to becoming the very thing I was trying to stop.


	3. Chapter 3

_A note to Aline:_  
For clarity’s sake, though I am writing this specifically for you, I won’t be writing _to_ you. There are things I need to say, things you deserve to know, that I can only say if I put some distance between my confessions and the knowledge you will be reading them.

#

I knew Aline Macrae Whyte in my real life, but I’ll only address our interactions through the mask to further protect my identity. I encountered her as Carapace entirely by accident. We happened to intersect in an alley while I was in the midst of fighting off some low-level goons who weren’t even connected to Stringer. That was the downside to living in a city like Seattle; far too many people and not enough space for us all. We were crowded on top of one another in crumbling towers hidden in the shadow of skyscrapers. It was only logical that eventually some of the people being trod upon would get sick of it and rise up against their oppressors.

By that point I was using gadgets Isaiah was churning out by the dozen. They could hurt, they could potentially maim, but none of them packed enough punch to be deadly when they were used properly. After I dispatched the goons, I made sure Aline was safe. She gave me her card and offered to tell my side of the story in the newspapers. I hadn’t considered having a voice in the media, but they were giving me coverage nonetheless. Hyperbole helped my cause; having the criminal element thing that I was an unstoppable and inhuman force would make them reluctant to fight me. But another part of me thought it was important for the people on the street to understand I was no different from them. They could stand up and fight just as much as I could.

I took the card she offered. I looked at the name I knew so well printed on the card and nodded once. “Whyte. I’ll remember.”

I sent her away to keep her safe and finished the job I was there for. Some nobody criminal trying to build his own little enclave inside Stringer’s territory wanted to hire me as an enforcer. I could understand why he wanted me; the security men he currently employed were a joke. I took them apart as easily as I would have shredded paper dolls. When I was done I left the ridiculous man bound and gagged for the police. It was the one time I could count on their corruption to help me. They would know he was a rival to their under-the-table payments and make sure he went away for a long time. I just hoped he survived to see a trial. Stringer could be brutal.

Once I was back underground I unfastened my mask and peeled it off with a relieved gasp. In the mirror I saw the sheen of sweat on my face, the hair sticking to my forehead. Sometimes unmasking was like waking up. My vision became sharp again, and everything I saw and experienced from behind the lenses was foggier and harder to grasp. I held on to that distance because it helped me maintain a completely separate identity.

After changing out of my uniform - I always thought of it as such, never as a costume - I went upstairs and worked half a day at my real job. My employer was flexible and willing to give me random hours to myself provided I make up for them after hours. Without getting into too many details and thus giving myself away, I can only say that I was employed in a job that didn’t grant me a typical workday. I used this to my advantage as much as possible.

Since I doubt this missive will be seen by anyone other than Aline, I’ll keep my interactions with her brief. There’s no need to waste her time recounting events she was there for. Our first real meeting happened in her apartment after she published a story confirming I was real. Even though writing the article was my idea, in practice and without collaboration, it could have created horrible problems. One of the rats ran to me and revealed Stringer had seen the article and immediately started digging up information about Aline.

Isaiah shook his head when I told him what had happened. “In his eyes, Miss Whyte has proven she has some sort of inside track to you. You are a ghost, but Aline Whyte is someone he can pin down and compel to talk. This is the exact reason you wear a mask, my dear. The whole reason we created Carapace in the first place is to protect you from retribution. We have to move swiftly to alert the reporter to the danger she’s in.”

I agreed to do it. Isaiah was worried it would only serve to strengthen Aline’s ties to me, but there was little other choice. I donned the mask instead of going to work, put on the uniform, and went topside to tell Aline she had made a mistake. We came up with a plan where she could continue to write about me, but I would play it carefully. I would also have all the rats keep their eyes peeled on Stringer just in case he made a move on Aline.

One night after I had changed but before I went up to the surface, Isaiah came to find me. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” His voice was gentle, but I could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. 

I thought about denying it, but I nodded. “I’m using Aline Whyte as bait.”

Stringer could strike anywhere in the city at any time. Aline was his focus, the center to which he was drawn. His interest in her might make him predictable and I could use that to get the jump on him. Hopefully he would play it coy with Aline even if he did strike. I didn’t want to see her get hurt. 

This is where I have to confess something, Aline. I hope and I pray that no one else sees this confession and for that reason I’m keeping it underground. Only Isaiah knows it exists. If somehow it gets into the hands of my enemies, if they use the words I’ve written here against you, I can only express my sincere apologies for writing about your most defended secrets. 

In my real life, the life without the mask, I knew of your proclivities. I knew the bars you frequented, and I knew that you often went home with women. You never saw me in those places even though we were often there at the same time. I was embarrassed to be seen there by strangers let alone someone I knew. So I watched from afar and felt unjustifiably jealous when you left with someone else’s arm hooked around your elbow.

I never went home with anyone. I was too frightened of being caught, of being found out. I had enough secrets without adding a lover to the mix. But the bars and clubs were a relief. I didn’t have to hide who I was; I didn’t have to be anyone in particular. And for once I could openly flirt and touch and laugh without looking around to see who was watching. In those instances a soft touch on my wrist could be as thrilling as a kiss, or holding a woman on the dance floor would satisfy me as much as any orgasm. At least that was what I told myself when I would peel away and kiss my partner on the cheek. I apologized, lied about an early morning, and I fled before they could convince me to stay.

Those were the nights I trained the hardest, staying up all night in Isaiah’s gym and then going to work the next day with bags under my eyes and muscles tender from overexertion. Those were the nights I sometimes donned the mask and went to some of Stringer’s favorite haunts in the hopes I could break some heads. We continued our brief meetings, Aline and I, and in some ways I found myself considering these dates. I knew they were no such thing to Aline. She saw them simply as a formality but I could tell a part of her was happy to be meeting with me. We formed a kinship despite the mask, and I thrilled at the fact that we could form relationships - albeit very different relationships - in both of my identities.

I found myself thinking there was a chance she would understand. We had become friends, of sorts, on both sides of my mask. Perhaps there was room for a third. Friend to Carapace, friend to my true identity, and lover to both. Those hopes were dashed when Aline made a foolish mistake and nearly got herself killed in one of Isaiah’s gadgets. I dispatched the men who had come to kill me and ran to the crevasse Aline had fallen into. I took her into my arms and carried her home, almost to the point of tears beneath my mask. I hoped and prayed that her association with me wouldn’t cause her permanent damage, hoped that my choice to become a super-hero wouldn’t ironically cost me the life of the one person in the city that I cared about more than anything.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course Aline survived. There would be no point to this missive if she hadn’t. Isaiah tended to her wounds while I made sure the rats remained out of sight. I hated bringing Aline into our inner sanctum but there was no choice. She’d gotten hurt because of me. How could I simply have left her behind or dropped her off at the hospital? The night Isaiah took Aline home, blindfolded so she wouldn’t be able to find her way back, he returned to find me waiting.

“You care for her, don’t you,” he said.

“She was hurt because of me. I felt responsible.”

He nodded. “But there’s something about her.”

“She writes about me in the newspaper.”

“Right. But is she special because she writes about you... or does she get to write about you because she’s special?”

I had to admit I didn’t know the answer to that question. I kept bouncing it around the rest of that night and into the next day. Aline was beautiful. She was my ideal woman, and I often found myself comparing potential partners to her and finding them wanting. Her dark hair, the long porcelain line of her throat, the curve of her hip... There were nights when I was on patrol and stopped by her building just to make sure everything was okay. I rarely ventured as close as the window, but sometimes I couldn’t help myself and took a quick peek just to make sure she didn’t need anything. 

During her convalescence I continued working with Bess to make sure Stringer’s men were held accountable for their actions. She advised me on how I could apprehend them without sacrificing her cases, and I provided her with information she could use at trial to make sure the charges stuck. I could tell she found our meetings awkward at first, dealing with me through the mask. Aline had the same reaction when we began discussing her articles. I understood their apprehension but I refused to reveal who I was. If Stringer found out they knew my identity, they would never know another moment’s peace.

A few weeks had passed since the incident in which Aline was hurt. I kept my distance during her recuperation. I knew she had someone helping her out around her apartment, the cooking and the cleaning, so I wasn’t tempted to offer myself as her maid. The next time I checked up on her I meant to only glance through the glass. I had done it a half dozen times before and always saw her alone in her bed or sitting at the dining room table writing. That night was different.

I pulled back as soon as I realized she wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t resist a second look. Aline was lying in the middle of her bed, reclining in the lap of a beautiful young blonde woman. They were still in their nightclothes, though ribbons were loose and buttons undone. The girl had her hand inside Aline’s underclothes, and Aline’s head was craned to one side so her lover could kiss her neck. Through the open bodice of Aline’s nightshirt I could see the inner curve of her small breast and my face became hot under the mask. She spread her legs wider and moved her hand down to guide her lover’s hand.

Though I admit that I lingered, I fled as quickly as my body would allow so as not to fall deeper into temptation. My mind raced with the images I’d subjected myself to. It was one thing to know Aline left the bar with women and to know where they went. I wasn’t a shrinking violet and I accepted what was happening. But to see her in flagrante... I could barely think or process the few thoughts I was having. I knew I would be useless in a fight, even if I was up against one of the lowest lackeys in Stringer’s organization. 

( _the material of her nightshirt pulled taut over a nipple_ )

A part of my mind must have known where I was going. It must have put me on the course across rooftops and through alleys, because I don’t believe I could have ended up there by accident. But there I was, blood buzzing in my veins and muscles twitching as if attached to live wires. I crouched on her wide windowsill and rapped my knuckles on the glass. My reinforced gloves made me sound more urgent, but I didn’t care. The lights were on so I didn’t have to worry about waking her.

Bess came out of the back room, still dressed for work in a man’s shirt and tie. Her hair was down and her makeup was scrubbed away. She furrowed her brow as she pushed the window up to let me in, stepping back as I climbed down into the apartment. 

“What’s happened?”

“I can’t... I don’t know.” I didn’t even know why I had come to her. But then I looked at her and I knew. The filter of my mask had been removed for convenience and replaced with a strip of cloth so I could be understood when I spoke. I untucked the cloth from my collar and lifted it up, tucking it under the leather of my mask to expose my chin and nose. Bess was so startled by even the smallest glimpse of my face that she didn’t react when I stepped forward and gripped her shoulders.

I kissed her, pressing her back against the wall as I ran my tongue over her lips. Her hands flapped against my coat briefly, applying pressure before letting up as if she was trying to decide whether to push me away or hold on for dear life. She moaned softly when I pushed her lips apart with my tongue, sucking her bottom lip before I ventured inside with the tip of my tongue. She met it with hers, and the tension in her arms faded somewhat. 

Kissing her was like twisting a release valve, as if the steam rising in me had been waiting for this opportunity to dissipate. As our kiss became less frantic she settled her hands on my upper chest, curling her fingers under the lapels of my jacket. I pulled back and she pressed her lips to mine to punctuate our first kiss, sliding her tongue across my mouth in a mimic of how it had begun. 

“I apologize,” I whispered.

“Don’t. It was unexpected. And odd. But not bad. Not bad at all.” She wet her lips with her tongue and looked at me, her eyes wandering the reflective panes of my lenses in an effort to see behind them. I realized how unfair the situation was and reached back to unlace my mask so I could take it off, but she stopped me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t?”

She shook her head. “If you don’t want to, I’m fine with not knowing.” She kissed each lens of my mask in turn, then kissed my lips again. “I’ve never been to bed with a woman before. The mask might make it easier.” She moved her hands over my curves and looked down to follow their progress. “The rest of this will have to go, of course...”

“Take it off of me.”

She moved her hands to the top button of my shirt and began fumbling with it.

“No... I didn’t say undress me. I said take it off of me.”

Bess hesitated, then grabbed the material and pulled. Only two buttons came off so she was forced to pull again. That time she succeeded in exposing my undershirt, and she kissed me again as she pushed her hands inside. I shrugged out of my coat and let it fall to the ground behind me, opening my mouth wide to accept her tongue as she explored the shape of my breasts. My nipples became hard under her touch and she swept her thumbs across them. Each brush of cloth against the sensitive skin sent electric signals down between my legs, and I closed my lips around her tongue as I grabbed her waist and pulled her roughly against me.

“Oh, my,” she gasped as I backed away from the wall. I walked her toward the divan but she resisted. “The bed is right through there. Please...”

“I want you to tell me what you want.” I bumped my nose against hers, my lips parted as if anticipating her kiss. “Can you be crude?”

“I can try.” She wet her lips. “I want you to take me. I want you to tear my clothes off and do horrible amazing things to me.”

I moved my hand down to her rear end as I pulled her into the bedroom. “More,” I demanded. I peeled off my gloves and let them drop. The gauntlets, attached to my wrists, clanked heavily when they hit the ground behind her. 

“I want you to... I want your fingers inside of me. I want them to be wet with me.” Her voice broke on that last, and she tightened her grip on my breasts. “I want your tongue on me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” she growled. 

The back of my legs hit the bed, and Bess shoved me down onto it. She didn’t give me a chance to sit up before climbing onto me. She pushed my shirt open, taking the time to unbutton my vest so she could see my torso fully exposed. Smoothing down my undershirt she looked at me to see if roughness was still the game. I nodded and she gripped tightly, baring her teeth as she ripped the cotton.

“God, I love this,” she murmured, changing her grip to pull again. The material came apart and left me exposed except for my bra. Bess ran her hand over my abdomen, pausing to examine the scars. Pale purple-brown ovals of poorly-healed wounds, some fresh and others faded to a permanent discoloring. Her brow furrowed and she looked at my face, my mask, and then cupped her hand over a cluster of the worst marks.

“I had no idea you...”

“Got hurt?” I said. “Of course I do.”

“No, of course you do. Of course.” Her voice was almost a whisper. She circled her thumb over a bruise that was less than a week old, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay.”

She moved down and lowered her head. She kissed the bruise and I closed my eyes behind my mask. Her lips parted and she brushed her tongue over it like a balm. I brought my hands up and curled my fingers in her hair, unconsciously spreading my legs to invite her between them. She kissed her way across my ribs, pausing at my sternum. Her tongue was hot and swift on my skin, and I pulled her hair out of its bun as she kissed her way down to my navel. I grabbed her collar and tugged her up.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Or what? You’ll knock me around with your gadgets?”

I growled and she grinned as she undid the cuffs of her shirt. She kept her eyes on me as she slowly, achingly, undid each button on her blouse. When she reached for her tie, I shook my head and whispered, “Leave it on.” She grinned and let the strip of cloth hang between her breasts as I admired her naked body. She was absolutely gorgeous. I was breathing heavily as she stood up to push her pants down, kicking them aside before she knelt between my legs again. She ran her hands over my thighs and then looked up at me as if for guidance.

“Have you done this before?” she asked.

I nodded. “Not a lot. But... yeah...”

“I’m going to need to you tell me what to do.”

“You’re doing fine,” I whispered desperately. “Just don’t stop. Please...”

She unfastened my pants and tugged them down my hips. I twisted to help her get them off, and she went to work on my boots. As she undid the laces and freed my feet, I sat up just enough to remove the tatters of my shirts. I took off my bra for her, and she knelt next to the bed between the hills of my knees. I looked down at her, my vision obscured by the mask, and I suddenly felt ridiculous. All the trappings of Carapace were gone, and I was just... myself, a foolish woman wearing a silly mask.

Bess seemed to intuit my discomfort. “Here,” she whispered. She picked up my brassiere and put it over her face, reaching back to tangle the straps behind her head. Once it was in place she adjusted the cups so they covered her eyes. She smiled at me and smoothed her hands over my thighs.

“You can take the mask off now. I can’t see you.”

I reached up and undid the ties that held the leather tight over my face. I peeled it off, the cool air of the room marvelous against my overheated skin. I brushed away the sweat on my brow and pushed my hair away from my face, gasping as I put one hand on the back of her head and guided her down. Her tongue, small and pink, darted across her bottom lip before she kissed my folds. I whimpered as her tongue pushed into me, tentative but keen. She moaned and put her hand over my pubic hair, her thumb extended to tease my hood until the clit became erect enough for her to pinch between two fingers.

“Bess,” I gasped, eyes tightly shut, hand curling into a talon on top of her head as I climaxed, thrusting against her face. She pushed her tongue into me and moaned loudly, pinching my clit hard with her fingers. “Oh, Elizabeth,” I grunted, grinding my teeth together as I came. She moaned something against my mound, something I couldn’t decipher, and I held her head against the crux of my legs as I fell back and stared blindly at the ceiling.

Finally she moved her lips from my sex and placed a wet kiss on the hard plain of my belly. The bra had been knocked askew and she reached up to adjust it before she settled on top of me. She left one leg between mine, the other hooked around my hip, and I helped her line up our faces. She dug her knee into the mattress and put her hands on my hips. I stared at her face, the features obscured by the lacy cups of my underwear, and I sat up to kiss her lips. She tasted like my orgasm, and I swept my tongue over her lips as she began to thrust against me.

“Make me come...” I moaned.

“Say my name again...”

“Bess... Elizabeth.”

She bent down and, after two busses on the cheek and nose, found my lips. She moaned as she kissed me and then whispered, “Plead for it, Carapace.”

“I want you,” I whimpered. “Please make me come. Elizabeth, please. I need it.”

She began moving faster and I closed my eyes. I held tightly to her as I rode her thigh, tightening around her, my hands running over her sweaty body as I met her thrust for thrust. I cried out when I came, but she managed to muffle it by clapping a hand over my mouth. I took her middle two fingers into my mouth and sucked on them as my lower body bucked against hers. I took deep breaths, eyes squeezed shut and teeth nibbling on her fingers as she rubbed her thigh deliciously between my legs.

We were both finished, both too exhausted to move. I pulled her down onto me and stroked her back, staring at a water spot on the ceiling as my body returned to me. Sex was an amazing animal, strange and inexplicable. It was as if we temporarily rent our bodies out to something that can barely contain it... angels, perhaps... and when they depart we’re left weary and blissful. My mind reeled. I kissed the top of her head and closed my eyes.

“You can look at my face if you want,” I told her.

“No. I want to know your name because you told me, not because it’s easier than covering my eyes.” She kissed my heated chest and moved her head down to suck on my nipple. My breath hitched and I moaned as I felt the entire process beginning again. 

“I believe you said something about... wanting my tongue on you.”

“Mm.” She moaned around my nipple.

“You gave... very specific instructions... on where it should go.”

“I did.”

“Then if I want to be finished by morning, I believe I had best get started...”

#

Why am I telling you this, Aline? I’ve repeatedly said this report is meant for your eyes only. Am I trying to titillate you? Turn you on the way you inadvertently did to me? The short answer is that I don’t know. But I fear the answer is yes. I want you to know how I felt on that fire escape, even though I had no right to feel jealous. Petty? Childish? Perhaps. But I hope you understand. I’ll try to refrain from further detail in our other encounters, but I make no promises.


	5. Chapter 5

A storm moved in the night a shipment of guns were due to arrive in Seattle, and I crouched under a gargoyle to keep an eye out for Stringer’s men. I used an eyeglass to watch the water through waves of icy rain, soaked to the skin and trying to control the chattering of my teeth behind my mask. It had been a week since I visited Bess at her home and altered our relationship. I hadn’t been back yet. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue with a physical relationship or try to go back to what we had before. I was also scared to return in case she had made the decision for me and chose the option I didn’t want.

The rats surprised me by revealing their ingenious discovery. Stringer wasn’t the only game in town; he was merely the most powerful and influential. There were others who wanted to take his throne. Some merely wanted to carve out their own section of the city, live and let live. I’d known that but the rats took it a step further. They figured if Stringer had a group of police officers loyal to him, it stood to reason that the other crime lords had their own crews. Through covert surveillance and reconnaissance, they were able to map out which officers were loyal to which groups. Now to ensure Stringer’s men ended up in jail, I only had to contact policemen loyal to Stringer’s rivals. 

Tonight’s shipment was earmarked for a man named Odom, so I had officers loyal to Medina on standby to pick up any garbage I left behind. I watched the ship as it slowly glided into the harbor and turned my attention to the dock workers. Water ran over my hood, collecting under my collar to trickle down my back. I had checked and double-checked the devices attached to my wrists and legs. Isaiah assured me they were waterproof but I was still anxious about letting them soak for too long. If Odom’s men didn’t show up soon I would have to call it a wash. No pun intended.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long. The men were apparently holed up inside the harbormaster’s office as long as possible so they could avoid the weather. They came out in a large group that split up as soon as they were in an open area. Three of them spread out across the pavement and stood guard as their friends continued to the ship to gather their goods. I stood up and exposed myself to the full brunt of the weather. I rolled my shoulders and gauged the distance to the ground. Isaiah had souped-up my boots and there were no better worst-case scenarios in which to test the improvements. I took a deep breath and leapt.

I aimed myself at the wall across the alley, extending my foot to brace myself against it. As soon as I made contact I fired the thrusters and propelled myself back the way I had come. I bounced off the wall of the building I’d used as my perch, and from there I went to the ground. I crouched on my landing, one hand on the wet pavement and the other extended out in case my descent had been noticed. None of Odom’s crew came running so I got to my feet and ran to where I had last seen them.

I came up behind the first man swift and silent. I snaked my arm around his neck and kicked his knee forward. I followed him as he went down, hauling him back up like a heavy chain. He went for his weapon but I pinned his dominant arm with mine and disarmed him. The scuffle drew the attention of the other men, and I bum-rushed them using their friend as a human shield. I took down two of them before they thought to sound the alarm. 

One of the men who was still standing tried to skirt around me. I heard his footsteps on the rain-lashed ground and turned to fire my wrist-mounted weapon at him. The energy from the blast was diffused by the rain, causing a wide rainbow of light that hit the man like a solid punch. He was lifted off his feet and splashed down on his back a few yards away. I disarmed the men I had taken out and took a few minutes to tie them against a wooden pole where they would be out of sight. I gagged them with their own hats and gloves before I went after the men who had continued to the boat.

I reached the bottom of the ramp at the same time four men arrived at the top carrying a large crate between them. The two men in front I recognized, but the other two must have been crewmen. 

“Oh, hell. It’s Carapace.”

One of the other men said something in Russian, but Odom’s men were already looking for a place to put down the crate without jostling it. I took advantage of their distraction and raced up the ramp. I leapt and slammed my elbow into one man’s face, spinning from the impact to tackle the other man. The Russians were shouting at each other as they dropped their end of the crate and backed away. Odom’s goon reached for a gun but I closed my hand around his wrist and let loose with a built-up charge of energy. It released with a snap that burned his fingers and made him drop the weapon. I slammed the flat of my hand into the middle of his chest and he stumbled backward over the railing. His scream was turned into a choking gurgle when he hit the water.

I threw myself flat onto the deck as the gunfire began. Bullets pinged off the metal railing above my head and I rolled before they could correct their aim. I remembered what had happened with my energy beam earlier and placed both hands flat on the deck. I fired both weapons as I pushed myself up into a handstand, protecting me from the wave of energy that crackled outward across the deck. It traveled through the rainwater and knocked the Russians off their feet as if I had just caused a minor earthquake. While they were dazed I got to my feet and grabbed their guns. I hurled them out into the water as the man I’d elbowed slammed into me from behind.

“Boss has big plans for you, little lady.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” I simpered.

He spun me around and pressed me against the hull of the ship, pinning me there with his body. I grimaced and closed my eyes as his hips pressed against mine. Isaiah hated when I used this tactic, but there was no way around it. I was a woman fighting against men, the sort of rutting pigs who would use sexual domination as a weapon against me. I just had to pick my moment and hope I didn’t wait too long. His hands moved from my arms to my waist, no longer restraining now that he had decided to explore what I had to offer. I pressed back against him and he chuckled lustily in my ear.

“Starting to get into it? Don’t. Trust me, darling, you ain’t going to enjoy this.”

“Oh, I could’ve told you that.” I brought up one leg and pressed my boot flat against the wall. I fired the thruster and threw us both backward with all the power I had at my disposal. The goon hit the railing so hard I heard something break, hit so hard that it hurt me even with his body to cushion the impact. He cried out in pain as I rolled forward, turned, and shoved him over the railing to join his friend in the water.

When I turned to face the Russians I saw they had their weapons trained on me. I held up my hands to show them my palms. One of them barked Russian at me.

“Sorry. I don’t speak your language. But listen... why don’t I just get down on the ground?” I gestured my intention. “My beef is with them. I don’t even know who you gentlemen are. But it’s clear you have the upper hand on me.”

They moved closer as I laced my fingers behind my head. One of them spoke in heavily-accented English. “We did not get paid for fight. We are only ship. We lock you in hold and make delivery, we let you out. We have no beefs with you, either.”

I nodded. “Okay. Okay.” I slid my fingers along my wrist weapon. “But here’s the thing, sir. You’re bringing something in for Mr. Odom. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I do know Mr. Odom isn’t exactly a friend to this city. I’ve sworn to protect it and he’s standing in the way of that. So whatever is in that crate... I have to assume it’s something that will help him.”

The English speaker moved behind me to secure my wrists. “You talk too much.”

“Sorry. I’m just trying to distract you from looking too closely at my hands.”

“Hands...?” 

I released a flash bright enough to blind him. When the glow was still fading I threw myself forward and wrapped my arms around his monolingual friend. I was too fast and too close for him to get a good angle with his weapon and we tumbled together down onto the deck. The English speaker opened fire, causing the friend I was tangled with to curse at him in their native language. The gunfire stopped and the other man rubbed furiously at his eyes to regain his sight. I grabbed two fingers of the man I was fighting, twisted, and he yelped in pain. I got to my feet and kicked him, knocking him out. 

“You make huge mistake, lady!”

I brought my arm up and aimed center mass. “Yeah. I make a lot of those.” I fired, but the result was a pitiful hiss and sputter. My eyes widened behind my lenses. I had expended too much energy and the reserves were out. “Oh, damnation.”

The Russian smiled and cocked his weapon. I leapt out of the way, slipping on the wet deck and tumbling down onto my side. I managed to correct my balance as he fired, my stumble saving my life as his shot went wide. I reached into my coat, grabbed some light-ups, and tossed them at him. They impacted like fireworks but I didn’t stick around to appreciate my handiwork. I ran to the crate and tried to lift it, but there was no hope when it had taken four men to bring it this far. I decided to use the weight to my advantage and pushed it to the edge of the deck.

“No! You cannot!”

The crate tilted over the edge, falling like an anchor along the side of the boat. When it hit the water the box bobbed for a moment and then began to quickly sink.

“He will kill us all for this.”

“I’m already on his hit list,” I said. “You get used to it after a while.” I climbed onto the railing and leapt, propelling myself far enough to land on the dock with a knee-jarring impact. I ran, not daring to look back at the ship as I fled the scene. Once I was away from the harbor I could switch to a rooftop route. I just hoped I had enough juice left in the boots to get me back to Isaiah’s for a refueling. I didn’t relish the idea of running out when I was jumping from one building to its neighbor.


	6. Chapter 6

Bess traced a vivid purple line along my ribs. I held my breath in anticipation of pain, but her touch was light enough that it didn’t hurt. She moved her hand to another, smaller splotch just above my hip. She cupped it with her hand as if covering it could heal the damage. “These are new.”

“I got into a scuffle.”

We were lying in her bed post-coital, her head on my chest. I was naked except for a veil Bess had made for me so I wouldn’t get suffocated under my mask. It let her see my hair, but she had spent enough time between my legs that my hair color wasn’t a mystery to her. I had the feeling that if she really wanted to know who I was under the mask she could find out easily enough. Hell, at the moment all she had to do was look up and blow the veil away with her breath.

“I know this isn’t a relationship in the standard definition, but I can’t help feeling awful when I think about you out there being beaten up all the time.”

“Are you starting to have feelings for me?”

Bess laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. This is still just something we do for fun. I’m okay with that. But I won’t go to bed with someone I hate. I care about you. Seeing you bleed or bruised... I’m not okay with that.” She lowered her head and kissed my skin, and I shivered. I stroked her hair and guided her head out of the way so I could sit up. I put my feet on the floor and, with my back to her, traded my veil for the mask. She sat up and touched my back. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought we agreed this wasn’t love.”

“It isn’t.”

I looked at her through the lenses of my mask. “Then why are you acting as if it is? You don’t even know what I look like. I assume you appreciate the mask because it allows you to imagine someone else underneath you.”

She furrowed her brow but didn’t deny the accusation. I stood up and gathered my clothes.

“If it’s becoming a problem, I could stay away for a while. Until you’ve gotten over your feelings.”

“Are you saying you don’t have feelings for me?”

I ignored the question as I finished dressing. “I’m going to keep doing this. It’s my purpose. And in doing it, I will get hurt. Let me know when you can accept that.”

“I accept that,” Bess said. “What I can’t accept is not knowing who you are under the mask. You’re right. When this started, you were all kinds of people under that mask. But now... I just want it to be you. And I don’t even know who that is.”

“If I took this mask off right now, what difference would that make?”

“I’d have something to call you besides that ridiculous newspaper name.”

The window was still open to let in a breeze and I paused before climbing out. “I’ll wait until the bruises have healed before I come back. To make it easier for you.”

“What about the new ones you get while these are healing?”

I shrugged. “We’ll see what happens. Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Just go.”

I turned, stepped out onto the fire escape, and climbed to the roof without the help of my boots. At the moment I was feeling decidedly less than superhuman.

#

The mayor threw a party aboard the airship _Caladrius_. I was invited for reasons that would incriminate me, or at the very least give too large a hint to my identity. Bess, as one of the more prominent attorneys in Seattle, also received an invitation. The ship lifted off just before sunset and the majority of guests gathered at the windows to watch the sky turn dark. I remained at the fringes of the room, moving to wherever there was an empty space and trying hard to avoid being noticed. The worst part of attending a party aboard an airship was the fact it would be impossible to leave early.

I wore my finest dress, an off-the-shoulders gown with elbow-length gloves. It felt more like a costume than my Carapace attire, and I resisted the urge to squirm my way out of it. Isaiah had assured me I looked splendid before I left the lair. He also warned me about fidgeting, but I was struggling with his warnings. I didn’t want to move too much because I was afraid that any sweat would ruin my makeup and expose the bruises it had taken hours to expertly conceal with powders and foundations. 

An hour into the party, festivities were well underway. People were dancing, eating, and had carved out their niches with friends and acquaintances. It was easier for me to find a place to plant myself without making obvious my aversion to company. The airship would skirt the edges of Seattle, cross along the center diameter, then angle north to park once more at the dock from which we had departed. I was mentally calculating how long that would take and was therefore distracted by Bess’ approach until it was too late to gracefully avoid her.

“Hello,” I said. “ADA Keaton, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are not. You can call me Elizabeth. I feel like you’re someone I should know.”

I tensed slightly but tried not to let it show. I told her my name and occupation, admitting there was a chance we had crossed paths professionally. She nodded slowly, one arm crossed over her midsection and the other holding up her champagne glass. She looked at me for a long moment, eyes searching my features for some clue that would solve the mystery for her. 

“Context,” I said.

Her eyebrows ticked slightly upward. “Pardon?”

“Something familiar, when seen in a particular setting, becomes a part of that setting. When you see one element removed from its contextual surroundings, it becomes odd. You’re forced to see the thing for itself rather than just one piece of a whole.”

“Perhaps that’s it. Maybe to identify you, I would have to see you in the proper element.”

I smiled. “Perhaps so.”

She turned and scanned the crowd. “Or perhaps just a less... ridiculous element. How mingling with such dreadfully boring people could possibly help my career, I’ll never know.”

I laughed. “Politics.”

“I’ll ask that you not use such foul language in my presence.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

“I’ll forgive it once. If you will refill my drink and join me on the promenade.”

For a moment I didn’t know how to react to that. Finally I just nodded and took her nearly-empty glass to the refreshment table. I swapped it for a fresh one, took one for myself, and looked to see her making a path toward the exits. I caught up with her just before she opened the door and led me out into the brisk night air.

The promenade was enclosed on three sides, with a chest-high railing on the far end to prevent accidents. I hugged myself as I followed Bess out, hunching my shoulders and squinting as the wind whipped my hair around my face. It was suddenly apparent just how vital my Carapace mask was; the leather protected me from the cold, while the lenses kept the wind out of my eyes. Bess moved so that we were out of the direct winds, but we were still freezing.

“I think I know where I recognized you from.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving nothing away.

She touched my arm. “The club, with the green door.” Her fingers slid up the bare skin of my arm. It was unclear whether the goosebumps were a result of the cold or her touch, but I knew what I would have wagered money on. She smiled. When she spoke again her voice was softer, more seductive. “That’s it, isn’t it? I’ve seen you at the club.”

I looked toward the windows. No one inside was paying us any attention, but they could have come out at any moment. 

“I don’t think we’re supposed to talk about the club.”

“Not even if it leads to something enjoyable?”

A sudden and unwelcome feeling of jealousy came over me. It was irrational, especially given how we had left things the last time we met. I put my hand on top of hers and moved it gently away.

“Ms. Keaton, I’m flattered. Sincerely. But I don’t think I can accept. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m in a bit of a complicated relationship right now.”

Bess scoffed and turned to look out at the city. “Sounds familiar.”

“Oh. You’re seeing someone?”

“I’m going to bed with someone. I’m not even sure I’d call it a relationship. I don’t even...” She stopped herself from saying more and shook her head. “She keeps things from me. Important things. There’s a wall between us that only comes down when she decides, and I’m getting sick of being trapped on the other side waiting for her.” She took a drink and wet her lips. “Anyway. I’m sorry. I just thought that it might be nice to have something less complicated. I apologize. I hope you have a good night...”

And then she said my name. For the first time, she said my true name, and it was like an iron spike in my chest. We’d been as intimate as two people could be, but she’d never called me by my god-given name, and I felt a wash of emotion hearing it on her lips. Unaware of my reaction she stepped around me to go back inside, but I grabbed her elbow.

“Wait...”

She looked at me and I leaned in. She anticipated my move and tilted her head to the side, and our lips met. Bess stepped closer and put her arm around my waist, drawing my body against hers as she moved us closer to the wall so we would be in shadow. She closed her lips around my tongue and I pulled it back, curling the tip against her upper lip as I leaned back. Her face was awash with light from the city below, and I saw her eyes scanning my face again. This time something clicked, most likely helped by the kiss, and she went tense in my arms.

“Lord love a duck,” she muttered. Her voice dropped into a sharp hiss. “It’s you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that other than a simple acknowledgement. “Yes.”

She pulled her arm away and stared at me for a long moment. Her expression was neutral and could so easily have tilted to either side of the spectrum. I remained calm and prepared to react to whatever she decided on. After a long moment she slowly brought her hand up and cupped my cheek. I leaned into the caress, and she brushed her thumb just under my eye. 

“God. You’re gorgeous.”

My cheek grew warm under her cheek. “I would have told you in time...”

“You told me now. That’s enough.”

Someone came to the door. “Miss Keaton?” He said my name as well. Bess dropped her hand to my shoulder and looked toward him. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine. A piece of schmutz blew into her eye and I was trying to get it out for her.”

“And succeeded,” I said. “Thank you for your help, Miss Keaton.”

She nodded. “Perhaps we should go back inside where there’s less chance of debris.”

“Yes,” our interrupter said. “The District Attorney was looking for you, Bess. I believe he wants to chat you up with the mayor.”

“Ah. That should be positively dreadful,” she said in a chipper voice. “I’ll be right in.”

He left, and she turned to look at me. “Do you have plans for after we land?”

“I’m supposed to go on patrol as usual.”

She gripped my hand. “Come by my apartment. I would like to see this face in the proper context. No mask, no veils.”

I nodded and squeezed her hand. “I think that would be lovely, Bess.”

She brought my hand to her lips and kissed the knuckles before she went back inside. Briefly alone on the promenade, I turned and looked out over the city. I grinned, relieved to have my secret out, positively giddy that Bess reacted well, and eager for what lay in store for us when the ship landed. I even considered letting Carapace take the night off. After all, she’d had plenty of nights in Bess’ arms. Tonight it would be my turn.


	7. Chapter 7

Bess and I went our separate ways after the party ended, but I caught her eye as we disembarked. She nodded and I dipped my chin. I took a circuitous journey through the city, going too far north before swinging back south to her building. I paused in the lobby and smiled at how unusual it would be to enter her apartment normally, walking in through the front door rather than ducking under her windowsill. I climbed to the third floor and knocked, and the smile she gave me revealed she’d been thinking along the same lines.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me run outside and climb up the fire escape?”

Her smile widened and she opened the door wider. “Come inside.”

The apartment was only lit by two lamps, one of which had a red shirt draped over its shade. I turned to face her and she touched my cheek, stepping close to slowly scan my features. I felt self-conscious as her thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, her small finger heavy on my jaw. 

“You have such beautiful eyes. I always wondered.”

“It’s nice to see you without the filter.” I put my hands on her hips. “So you’re not disappointed?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I mean, look at you.” She lightly brushed her lips across mine, and I took the initiative to turn her invitation into something more. She moved her hands to my shoulders and then the back of my neck, moaning as I turned us and pressed her against the wall. She put her hand in my hair to pull me away from her, freeing her lips to kiss under my eyes and the bridge of my nose. I smiled as she kissed the parts of me that had heretofore always been hidden from her. As she explored I slipped my hand up her back and tugged down the zipper of her dress.

“You clean up very well,” she whispered before she nipped my ear.

I pulled her dress off, and she dropped her arms so she could push it down her body. She stepped out of the clothes and took my hand to draw me toward the bed. She watched me the entire way as if she was trying to take note of my every facial tic and twitch. Under other circumstances I would have felt self-conscious by her attentions I felt comforted. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at me.

“I want to see you bare. Completely.”

I undressed slowly for her. When my breasts were bared she leaned forward to kiss between them. She took one nipple into her mouth and stroked the other with her fingers as I pushed my dress and underclothes down. I placed my knees on either side of her and lowered myself onto her lap. She cradled me, her hands in the center of my back as she kissed her way back up to my face. She stroked one finger along the shell of my ear and looked at me from up close. She whispered my name and I kissed the corner of her mouth.

“I love you.”

“That’s an odd thing to say,” I whispered back, smiling.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “You were looking for someone to go to bed with tonight at the party. That’s not exactly a sign of devotion, is it?”

She pulled back when I tried to kiss her. “And that’s not an appropriate response to someone saying they love you.” I tried to pull her back to me, but she put her hands flat on my chest. “No. The only reason I was looking for someone tonight was because Carapace never seemed real to me. You weren’t real to me until I saw your face.”

“So you’ve only known me about five minutes. How could you possibly love me that quickly?” 

“I do.”

“No. You don’t.” I relaxed, her knees digging into my rear end. I sighed and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see part of her body and weaken my resolve. “This was a mistake.”

Bess put her hands on my arms. “Wait...”

“I shouldn’t have revealed who I was. This just muddied everything up.” I lifted up off her lap, and her hands dropped away as I turned to retrieve my clothes.

She put her feet up on the edge of the bed, once again using her knees to cover herself. She wrapped her arms around her legs and watched me dress.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s fine. You spoke your mind. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just...”

“You don’t believe me.”

I shrugged and looked at her over my shoulder. “You don’t know me. Not really. And that’s my fault. You know Carapace, and Carapace isn’t real. She’s not someone you could love.”

Bess stood up and put on a robe. She moved to stand next to me and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I hope I haven’t ruined things between you and me. It might not be love, I may have just used the wrong word. All I know is that I really treasure what we have. Professionally, physically, I think we have something good. I think it could be remarkable if we give it a chance. Don’t let one slip-up ruin everything.”

“I need to go.”

“Will you come back?”

I honestly didn’t know, so I remained silent. I walked to the door once I was presentable, but I stopped with my hand on the knob. “Bess... this is awkward...”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she said quietly. “Hell, even if I wanted to, I’d have to admit I figured it out from the way you kiss.”

“Might be kind of difficult to explain.”

“Just a little.”

I paused and sighed. “I’m sorry, Bess. I care about you a lot, too. Maybe I sabotaged something really special by starting it the way I did. Behind a mask, keeping my real name from you... maybe that was all stupid and wrong.”

“I suppose time will tell.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you again another day.”

She nodded and I left the apartment, regretting so many things that I didn’t even know where to begin. I had intended to take the night off due to the party, but being Carapace was something I knew I could do well. I had recovered enough from the incident on the harbor that I felt confident going out again. I went directly to Isaiah’s lair, suited up, and headed out.

#

“...and Stringer’s men recovered something from the harbor.”

I looked up at that. One of the rats, a girl named Zona, had been reporting on that week’s surveillance. I had been listening with half an ear, distracted by the situation with Bess and Aline’s continuing romance with the housekeeper. But assuming the item retrieved was the box I had kicked off the boat a week earlier, my attention was seized.

“Wait. Are you positive it was Stringer’s men?”

She looked at me, large black eyes wide in her dirty face. She looked at her notes, tongue poking out between her lips. After rechecking her information she nodded.

“There were a couple of guys I recognized from other places.”

That didn’t make sense. Why would Stringer be recovering the item? “It was a box, about this long, wide...” I gestured with my hands and she nodded. “Curious. Anything else?”

“Nope. Oh, Sutherland’s trial is starting Monday.”

I nodded. “I’m aware. Thank you, Zona. You’ve been very helpful.”

She beamed and scurried off, most likely to brag to the other rats I’d said she was helpful. They took an inordinate amount of pride in finding some scrap I would praise them for. Isaiah had been watching and, once the girl was gone, he approached me and spoke in a low voice.

“You need to be careful. They’ll turn information gathering into a sport.”

I shrugged. “That could lead to even better intelligence.”

“Or it could lead to them taking unnecessary risks. One of them could get hurt.”

“I never asked them to do this, Isaiah.”

“No, but you haven’t discouraged them.”

“Damn it,” I growled. “I’m not their mother. Is it my fault they idolize me? Is it my fault they treat me like some sort of hero?”

Isaiah picked up the mask and held it up so I was looking into the lenses. “This doesn’t help humanize you.”

I snatched the mask from him. “This is necessary.”

“No one’s questioning that. But those kids know your real name, and they still call you Carapace when you’re not around. The younger ones, I think they may not know you’re really a human being under this thing.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe someday I’ll be hurt, and one of them will put on the mask, carry on the tradition.”

Isaiah shook his head. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not the important one,” I said as I snatched the mask from him. I held it up. “She’s the only thing that’s important. She’s the only one who matters in this city. The other person, the face I show to the world... she’s just a cover.”

“She has friends, a job, a home...”

“Parts of the illusion,” I said. 

Isaiah stared at me. “If you truly believe that, then maybe it’s time to take a break from the mask. Just for a little while.”

“There’s no time to take a break. I just found out Stringer recovered something that Odom snuck into the country. Either that means Stringer has a mole inside Odom’s organization, which means he’s planning to take over, or they’re working together. I’m not sure which would be more devastating, but I need to find out before I can respond. I also need to find out what was in that box.”

“Weapons seems a likely possibility.”

“If it was just guns, they wouldn’t go to the effort of retrieving it. They’d just bring in more. This box must be something unique.” I shook my head to dispel the speculation. “I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. For now I need to focus on Stringer and Odom. Bess Keaton might have some information that could help me figure out if they’re partners or rivals.”

“Bess Keaton,” Isaiah said.

“Don’t start.”

He held up his hands to show he had no ulterior motives. I was skeptical. I grabbed my jacket on the way out of the room and looked down at the mask as I headed for the exit. My purposes for visiting Bess were pure, I told myself, but Isaiah had a point. Aline might have had access to better and more recent information but I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to hear her voice or simply sit in her presence. Part of my outburst with Bess had been due to the fact she’d said those words first. She didn’t know me, she barely knew Carapace, but I knew her. I was in love with her. But she had broken the ice before I had, and I was embarrassed. In addition to finding information about Odom and Stringer’s possible conflict, I wanted to take the opportunity to apologize to her.

I crossed the city by my typical rooftop route, but this time I heard shouts from the street as I passed. Every time I thought it was someone in duress, but every time I looked down I spotted someone waving and smiling up at me. I was becoming something more than myself; I was a symbol. Carapace was more than me, more than the mask or the costume. I was their hope.

I arrived at Bess’ apartment and crouched next to the window to knock as I always did. This time I paused and stared at the closed curtains before I noticed the small piece of paper taped to the inside of the glass. “YOU’RE NOT WELCOME HERE. ‘SHE’ CAN USE THE FRONT DOOR, IF SHE WANTS.” I stared for a long moment, my fist slowly dropping from its ready-to-knock position to rest on my knee. Did I want? What was my real purpose for coming here? Information or apology, preservation of our personal relationship? If I had to choose between making Bess into one or the other, source or lover, which could I live with losing?

I stood up and thought of Bess sitting in the apartment. How long had the note been in the window? How long had she been waiting to see which version of me would show up? I rubbed my fingertips against my thumbs and looked up at the sky. Whatever decision I made could never be unmade. I turned and descended the fire escape ladder, standing in the alley for a long moment before I retreated into the shadows between buildings.

#

The door opened and Bess stared out at me for a long moment. She took a deep breath and, as she released it, allowed a shaky smile to cross her features. “I heard you out on the fire escape,” she said. “For once I was pleading with you not to knock on the glass.”

I had stripped down to my undershirt, one of Isaiah’s, and wrapped the various items of the Carapace were bound in the coat I had tucked under my arm. My hair was a mess, and my brow and upper lip were wet with sweat from my run across the city. I knew I must have looked horrendous, but Bess looked at me and I felt as gorgeous as I’d been the night aboard the airship, the night she really saw me for the first time.

“So you’re not disappointed?” I asked.

She put her hand on my neck and pushed her fingers up into my hair. She pulled me close and whispered my name just before our lips met. Aline and the rest of the city could see me as Carapace. They could look up at my masked face and peer into my lenses for hope. I could deal with being an effigy so long as one person, one beautiful and tremendous person, saw me for myself. If no one else in the entire city knew me, I could cope so long as Elizabeth Keaton did. I took her in my arms and lifted her off her feet, taking her into the apartment and kicking the door shut behind us.


	8. Chapter 8

I spent more time as myself than as Carapace over the next few weeks. Bess and I went out for dinner, we took long strolls down the waterfront. We got to know one another without the mask between us. The next time she said she loved me, we were huddled in the brick archway of an apartment building waiting out a sudden rain shower. That time I accepted, and I tasted the rain on her lips as I said it back to her. She clung to me, and I smelled the ozone of the rain in her hair as I looked out of our refuge at the gentle but steady downpour.

I admitted to myself that I had only gone to Bess out of anger and jealousy. But in the time we’d been together my feelings for Aline abated and became a faded memory in light of how I felt for Bess. She was truly who I belonged with, and I clutched her hand in the cold. I kissed the shell of her ear and she tightened her arms around my waist.

“I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare!” she said.

“No, not this... I’ll stop being Carapace. It’s too dangerous, and it drives you crazy when I’m out there endangering myself.”

Bess looked at me for a long moment, her eyes soft and her lips curled into a slight smile. She smoothed her hands over the shoulders of my jacket and stroked my upper arms. “Let’s go home.”

“It’s still raining.”

“So we’ll get wet. Come on.”

She took my hand and guided me out into the weather without waiting for me to agree. We ducked and ran, using the awnings as much as possible but accepting the fact we would be soaked to the bone by the time we finally reached shelter. Bess kept her fingers locked with mine as we ran, and I saw the side of her that so few people were privy to. She was stoic in court and had a single-minded dedication to the current trial. She never let her hair down in public, but now it hung in water-heavy curls on either side of her face. She turned to make sure I was keeping up and her smile threatened to split her face in two. I couldn’t help but smile in response.

When we got home our clothes felt ten pounds heavier due to the drenching we’d gotten. We peeled off the outer layers, which had somewhat protected the clothes underneath. When we were down to our unmentionables Bess cupped my face. The rain had made my skin felt clammy but her hands were slick and cool. She chuckled breathlessly after our run and looked into my eyes. I gripped her wrists and stared back at her.

“Throw away the Carapace mask. Bury her. Do it for me.”

“Okay,” I said.

She took a deep breath. “You would, wouldn’t you? God. Don’t. Please, don’t. I hate thinking you’re in danger, and every time you limp in here or take off your blouse to reveal a new bruise, it’s like I’m being punched in the gut. It kills me. But burning the mask isn’t going to change the reason you first put it on. You’ll still be Carapace but you’ll be stifling that part of yourself. Eventually you’ll resent me for it.” I started to protest, but she stopped me by putting her finger on my lips. “You will. So I’ll take you for the times you’re here and you’re intact, and the times you’re hurting... you need to know there’s somewhere you can go to find comfort.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

Bess kissed me, and I slipped the straps of her brassiere off her shoulders. I bent my knees and sank down to kiss the bare skin I had just exposed, and she ran her fingers through my hair to straighten the tangles. I knelt in front of her, my hands just far enough back on her hips so my fingertips rested on her buttocks, and I kissed her belly button.

“You change your mind, you just have to say the word. Just like you did now.”

She nodded and I moved my lips lower to show her just how much I appreciated what she had done for me.

#

Through the rat network, I was able to determine that the shipment Odom’s men had brought in had indeed been recovered by Stringer. In addition there had been several other large shipments brought in by crime lords in the city that ended up in Stringer’s possession. None of the rats could get a look inside the boxes without putting themselves at risk but I had enough information to be concerned. Stringer’s rivals were going to great expense, and endangering their operations, in order to give Stringer a storehouse full of... what? Weapons? Stringer could get his own weapons, and if they were special weapons why wouldn’t his rivals use them to gain power and territory? Why just hand them over to their competition?

I asked these questions to anyone I could get my hands on. I disarmed bank robbers with magnets and pinned them to the wall, but they never knew anything useful. When a member of Philip Browning’s crew tried to hijack an airship, I leaned him out the cockpit window and asked what Stringer was suddenly so intent upon collecting. He refused to answer me so I left him bound and gagged for the police. Stopping crime was now my secondary purpose; I was now focused on grabbing criminals so I could interrogate them.

Almost every night I wasn’t on patrol was spent with Bess. One evening she picked up the Carapace mask and put it on in the middle of our lovemaking, but she yanked it off well before orgasm. Afterward she pushed it off the mattress with her toes.

“That thing is so stifling! How could you bear making love in it for so long?”

“The ends justified the means.”

She smiled and kissed the corners of my mouth and we soon fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I rarely socialized with people at work, but eventually I was unable to hide my change in demeanor from even them. I admitted I had fallen in love with someone but refused to tell them who it was. There were rumors I was having an affair with my boss or any number of men around the building, but I refused to give any story an ounce of merit. When I wouldn’t play along their gossip eventually petered out until my relationship status was all but forgotten.

Aline was the person I was most concerned about. One night I perched on her rooftop and we went through our standard exchange of information including the information I would allow her to share with Mayor Iverson and Mr. Stringer. We were speaking for close to half an hour before I surprised her with a personal question.

“How is Lisbet?”

She stared at me for a long time before she said, “She’s doing fine. Just fine.”

“Good. I’m happy for you.”

“I wasn’t. Um... I mean, I know you’d seen her, but I didn’t know you knew...”

“I only had to look at your face to know you’re in love. I’m happy for you.” I thought about revealing I had someone of my own, someone to hold when the nights felt long and cold, but it seemed too defensive. I didn’t want to counter my congratulations with an unnecessary declaration that I wasn’t alone anymore. She had Lisbet and I had Bess... I laughed suddenly, so suddenly that Aline flinched and her eyes widened in surprise.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.”

“Sorry. Just a random thought.”

I couldn’t tell you then but I’ll tell you here... Lisbet and Bess, you and I, both with our Elizabeths to keep us warm and heal us when we’re scared. 

“So you haven’t heard anything about Stringer’s rivals bringing mysterious boxes into the country and then handing them over?”

Aline shook her head. “Not a whisper. It’s weird, though, I agree. I’ll keep an ear to the ground and let you know if I discover anything.”

“I appreciate it.” I stood up and stretched my legs. “Tell Lisbet hello for me.”

She smiled. “I will.”

I leapt from the railing and used my boots to slow my descent to the alley. If there was some grand purpose behind Stringer’s accumulation of mystery boxes, if they weren’t just payoffs or gifts bestowed upon the king, then he was planning something big. I only had a general guesstimate on size and shape of the boxes, and some rats were better at guessing than others. Whatever was in the boxes, no matter their size, Stringer had enough of them to cause a problem. He could arm a militia or build some sort of doomsday weapon. I had to find out where he was keeping them and get a look at what was inside.

#

I’d found the warehouse in which Stringer was storing his mysterious collection and staked it out before making my move. When I determined the place would be empty I snuck in and started examining the boxes. I had just managed to pry off the lid of one box when a group of men returned. I was debating whether I could make it to the window when they spotted me.

“Oh, hell. That’s her. That’s Carapace.”

There were six of them. Four were too dumbfounded to do anything, one of them ran to alert their superior to my presence, and the biggest of the bunch lunged at me without a weapon or a plan. I moved into a boxer’s stance and slapped my wrist-mounted weaponry. It charged in the seconds it took the man to reach me. All I had to do was make contact with him anywhere on his body and the energy would knock him flat. I pulled my arm back to hit him and realized I had made a horrible assumption.

The man who had run off wasn’t going to alert someone else; he was sneaking up behind me. When I pulled my arm back to punch his compatriot he slipped his arm around my elbow and pulled me back. I was thrown off-balance and the other man slammed into us both. I was pinned between them, the air forced from my lungs as we fell. My arm hit the ground first and the burst of energy dispersed across the floor underneath us. My brain felt scrambled by the surge of electricity, blinding me long enough for the man on top of me to get his bearings. My body had cushioned his in both the fall and the energy blast. He grabbed the underside of my mask and yanked it up, exposing my face to him. I felt a sting of dread as his eyes locked on me and I looked into the dark center of his eyes as if I could see the memory of what I looked like being formed. 

I brought my hand up and fired my gauntlet without charging it. The only result was a bright flash, but that close it didn’t matter. He was blinded, maybe permanently, and I put my boot against his crotch. I fired the thruster and he was thrown back with a howl of pain. I pulled my mask back down and hoped he hadn’t seen enough to identify me. Something hit me in the back and I felt an odd pinch. I drove my elbow into the man underneath me, got up, and reached back to massage the tight muscle of my side. My hand bumped the hasp of a small blade, and I looked down to see dark blood welling around the cut in my jacket. The blade had slipped through the seams of my breastplate. 

“Get her away from the Stratagem!” one of the men shouted. 

I stumbled forward. Away seemed like a good idea; there was no way I could fight all of them with damage this bad. I crouched to propel myself up to the second-floor landing where I’d left a window propped open, but one of the men fired at me. His bullet clipped my leg and threw off my trajectory. Instead of a straight upward flight, I flailed helplessly as my boots threw me off at a forty-five degree angle. I crashed into the side of a crate, my forehead splitting where I’d impacted. Warm blood ran between my skin and my mask as I hit the floor in a crumpled heap.

“Kill her,” one of the men said. “Finish her off.”

“I saw her face. I swear I’ve seen her before. God, if I could just...”

My heart raced. I got onto my hands and knees and turned to see the men were surrounding me. One of them was holding a gun on me. At this distance, he wouldn’t miss. I narrowed my eyes behind the lenses of my mask and curled my hands into fists. I tried to sound confident, tried to disguise the fact I was terrified by how much blood I had already lost and the damage I was already trying to overcome. I was shaking and lightheaded.

“If we’re going to do this, I want to be kind about it. Now... which of you are comfortable dying for your cause, and which of you only want to be crippled for life?”

“Big talk for someone pooling blood on the floor.”

“I’ve been standing here bleeding long enough to make a pool of it,” I said. “What’s stopping you from closing the distance and ending this? I think you’re still scared of me. And I think you’re smart. Because there are six of you, and even with your blind friend back there, you’re most likely going to kill me. I’ve prepared for that scenario. If I’m going to die anyway... I’m taking all of you with me.” I swept back my jacket, grabbed a device from my belt, and the air filled with a rapid and intense beeping.

The men found their courage and lunged at me as a single entity, and I slapped the device from my belt against the center of my chest. The beeping reached a crescendo and my body exploded in a bright flash of light and shrapnel.

At least that was what it looked like to the men who had been a split-second away from grabbing me. More sound than fury, a concussive outward blast combined with a smoke screen and a lab’s worth of gears and screws and washers gave the illusion of self-destruction. The men were thrown back with a cry of shock and pain as the debris impacted them as sharply as bullets. I took advantage of the distraction, the last trick in my arsenal, and shot upward. This time I landed where I aimed, and I dove through the open window and out into the cool night air.

I ran five blocks, my boots sputtering on the last of their reserves as I sailed from one rooftop to the next. On the last building my knee buckled and I hit the ground hard. My trajectory made me roll and bounce a few feet before I managed to stop myself. I lay face-down on the tar, breathing hard, cataloguing my different injuries. Stabbed in the side, cut on my forehead, blood mingling with my sweat to cover my face in a grievous mask, shot in the leg... I had no idea when or how I had lost the knife that was left in me, but I was grateful I wouldn’t have to make the decision to pull it out or leave it in.

A few of the items on my belt served as first-aid. My fingers fumbled with them but I eventually managed to put a temporary seal on my knife wound and the leg wound. I carefully peeled off my mask, hissing when the already-drying blood tried to stick to my skin, and I cleaned up the gore as much as I could. My hands were shaking when I finished, and one look at the inside of my mask made me gag at the idea of putting it back on.

When I felt able, I pushed myself back up. For the first time my uniform felt like a costume. I felt ridiculous in the bulky boots, the gauntlets, my ridiculous weighted gloves... I stuffed my soiled mask into the pocket of my coat and walked to the fire escape. I could barely see straight when I reached the ground, but I had to get to safety. I knew I could hide out Underground with Isaiah. I knew he could give me top-notch medical care, and I could stay there without worrying Bess. But I went to her anyway.

I climbed her fire escape and knocked weakly on the window. I had sagged against the frame by the time she pushed the curtain out of the way and drew me inside.

“Good God. Good heavens, no, no...”

Her arm went around me and I dropped to my knees. She followed me down, her hand soft against the nape of my neck.

“Just a little further, honey.”

“I can’t...” I leaned against her and then tensed to pull away. “God. Your clothes... I’ll get them bloody...”

“Sh. They’re my clothes and I’ll get ‘em bloody if I want to.” She stroked my hair and I closed my eyes, finally relaxing. The pain hit me and I cried out, my mouth hanging open long after the sound stopped. Bess whispered against my hair, rocking me slowly as I sobbed and bled on her clothes. She didn’t admonish me or tell me she had warned me this would happen. She only held me, checking my injuries as best she could without abandoning our clutch, and when I was able to sit up she kissed the unbloodied parts of my face before she stood up.

“Let’s see about patching you up, huh?”

I clutched her hand and she looked at me again. I tried to find the words to tell her she was right, to express how much I wanted to give her the dull, safe partner she wanted. I wanted to let her know that if it was possible I would leave Carapace behind forever. 

After a long silence in which the words failed to come, Bess smiled a bit and brought my knuckles to her lips. She kissed them and whispered, “I know, dear. Come on.” 

I took her hand in both of mine and let her lead me to the bathroom where her first-aid kit awaited.


	9. Chapter 9

Makeup could only cover so much, so after Bess sewed up my forehead wound she covered it with a flesh-tone bandage and fixed my hair so that I had bangs. I reached up and touched where they feathered across my eyebrows and looked skeptically at her. She smiled in anticipation of my question and assured me it looked fashionable. When I was able to travel, I went to the Underground and received my raking over the coals from Isaiah. First for not letting him know where I was and secondly for downplaying my injuries. He checked Bess’ handiwork, applied fresh bandages, and listened to my recap of what had happened in the warehouse.

“They said the Stratagem?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Does that mean anything to you?”

He shook his head. “It probably has no more significance than Carapace does to you. Probably a codename for whatever he’s planning. But now we have a fraction more than we did. I just wish it hadn’t been acquired at such a heavy cost. How did Miss Keaton take your injuries?”

“Not well,” I said. “But she’s become more accepting of what I do. I just need to be careful not to abuse that trust.”

“That’s easier said than done, I’m sure you know.”

I nodded and patted his arm as thanks for his help. I went back to the surface world, a place I had once thought of as an alien environment. My identity there was just subterfuge, and my real face was the Carapace mask. But things had changed since meeting Bess and falling in love with her. I was a blank slate when I went to the surface and she breathed life into me. She gave me color and light, made me a true person. She was my sun and she gave me life. I vowed to find a way to be more careful even after my wounds had healed.

#

I learned what Stratagem was in a bank. One of Stringer’s employees, a woman named Sabine Reynaud, donned the various pieces as an impenetrable suit of armor. I fought against her as best I could, I gave my all, but she still bested me. It was only due to the intervention of Aline that I survived the encounter. She picked me up, carried me back to Isaiah’s lair, and left me in his very capable hands. I barely remember the trip, whether I gave Aline directions or if she somehow knew the way, I have no idea. All I know is that I came to on a bed in Isaiah’s lab. He was standing with his back to me, but I must have made some noise because he turned to look at me almost immediately after I opened my eyes.

“Isaiah,” I whispered.

He wiped his hands on something and said, “At this rate, you won’t wake up next time.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, then winced. Even nodding hurt. Hell, being awake hurt. 

“I had to cut off your armor. It almost crushed you inside of it. I can replace it, but...”

“Don’t.”

He said, “I’ll make it stronger, of course. If I reinforce the seams we won’t have a repeat of what happened with the knife.”

“Don’t,” I said again, this time putting some of my meager strength behind it. He turned to look at me. “I’m done. Stringer... Stringer has won.”

“That’s not...”

I cut him off. “No, like you said. Next time I won’t wake up. He brought in that goddamned machine, stuck a psychopath inside, and she destroyed me. I was only able to do this because I was stronger than the bastards ruining the city. That’s not true anymore. Now even with the armor I’m no better in a fight than an average person. Stringer upped the ante and he won. Plain and simple.”

“But the city...”

“The city... I’ve been fighting for this city so long, and it’s still cascading downhill, Isaiah. I can no longer fight for Seattle. The only thing I can fight for is Bess, and I can win that battle by laying down my arms and fading away.” He looked distraught, so I reached out to touch his hand. “This is why I wore the mask, Isaiah. So that one day I could take it off and disappear into the crowd.”

Isaiah stared at me. “Are you sure this is what you want, sweetheart?”

I squeezed his hand and smiled. My lips hurt, and I imagined I’d just reopened a wound. “You’ve sent your daughter out enough times not knowing if she’ll be coming back. It’s time she stayed home for once.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re not... I-I’m not...”

“Come on, Isaiah.”

He squeezed my hand. “If you’re sure this is what you want... I’ll go back to just tinkering with inventions without expecting practical tests for them.”

I nodded. 

“Now get some rest. I’ll go let Aline and Lisbet know you’re all right.”

“When they’re gone... will you go get Bess? I want to tell her myself what happened.”

Isaiah nodded. “I will. Rest. You’re not out of the woods yet, and you’ll want to be rested for all that yelling she’s going to do when she sees the state you’re in.”

“Yes, sir.”

He left the room and I heard him speaking to Aline, heard her voice echoing incongruously in the brick corridors of our inner sanctum. I wanted to show her who I was, but I had a vague memory that we’d already had that conversation. I wondered how much of my short-term memory had been damaged by the battering I took. I drifted off to sleep, knowing I would heal, hoping that I would survive whatever wounds Bess planned to inflict on me when she saw the state I was in.

#

Bess woke me when she arrived. I braced myself for her anger. I had imagined all the horrible things she could and should say to me, but I knew that nothing would compare to actually hearing them from her. But I deserved it and I vowed to take it all. She looked me over, wincing as she saw the many bandages and braces that seemed to be holding me in one piece. The suspense was killing me so I started to say her name, but she shushed me. She undid a button on my blouse, slipped her hand inside, and pressed it flat against the flat side of my chest. My heart thumped twice, and she nodded her satisfaction.

“Everything else is just details.”

“I’m sorry, Bessie.”

“I know you are. But you’re alive.”

I reached for her hand. “Thank you for not asking me to stop being Carapace, but... I can’t do this again. You said it would be wrong if I changed because you asked me to. But I can choose to change myself. If my friend hadn’t been there I would have been beaten to death... if she hadn’t dragged my sorry ass back here, I would have died of my injuries. It was too close. I’ve done everything in my power... I’ve done more than anyone could ever have asked of me. It’s time to stop and enjoy myself. If you’ll have this broken thing.”

Bess’ smile was all I needed. She brought my hand to her cheek and pressed it tight against her skin. She turned her head to kiss my wrist and nodded. “I’ll have you, my love.”

Soon after she put her head down on my stomach. I stroked her hair until she fell asleep, and I closed my eyes to follow suit. I tried to think of what would happen to the city without Carapace watching over it, but that wasn’t the future I had to concern myself with. I had to envision what I would be without the mask. Without Carapace my cover identity would envelop me, would become my entire being. I would have to have something else, some other aspect, to fill the void.

I decided being Bess’ lover would do quite nicely.

#

I healed slowly. I very nearly lost my job due to all the time I missed. I told my boss that I was hit by a car while crossing the street; he had his own vehicle and often spoke about how dangerous they were to pedestrians. That didn’t prevent him from ordering his driver from exceeding safe speeds when tooling about the town, but I digress. I was given time to recuperate and Bess took a little personal time to help me. There were times in the night when she woke me because I was breathing strangely, and she checked me out to make sure I wasn’t hurting. 

I kept tabs on Stringer through the rats, although I spent less and less time venturing into the Underground. On some trips I could only find rats I had never seen before; either children of those who had come before, or newcomers to the Underground that had fallen through the cracks of society. Once, the first time I was able to visit the catacombs without the aid of a crutch, I couldn’t find any of them. I waited in Isaiah’s parlor until he arrived and asked where all the rats had gone.

“They’re here,” he said.

“Why are they hiding from me?”

He frowned, but then his expression shifted to understanding. “They’re not hiding from you,” he said gently. “You’re just not one of them anymore.”

The thought broke my heart, but I had to admit he was right. I was spending ninety percent of my time above the surface. I was focusing on my mundane job. I was one of the people who had always treated the rats as invisibles. As much as it hurt, I hugged Isaiah when I left and told him how much he’d always meant to me. He was my father, I was his girl, and I knew I would have been dead a dozen times over if it wasn’t for him. He told me that I’d made him proud and I nearly collapsed in his arms. I kissed his cheek and fled before I forced myself to stay.

Before our schism, the rats informed me that Stringer had consolidated the other gangs in town. The former leaders became his lieutenants while he ascended to the self-appointed position as overlord. The Stratagem suit, having served its purpose, was no longer being used. The city was no safer than it had been before, but it was much quieter without Stringer and a half-dozen other factions constantly having territorial issues. It helped me sleep at night, although there were still moments when I would slip and reach for my mask before I could catch myself. Bess accepted these quirks and nervous tics with good humor. 

Aline’s partner changed her name to Elizabeth Whitehall, and Aline assumed the surname when they unofficially wed. Any jealousy I might have felt a year earlier was but a tickle under the surface as I congratulated her. A part of me loved Aline, but my feelings for her paled in comparison to the want, need, crave I felt for Bess. The four of us celebrated by having a fancy dinner at one of the finest restaurants in Seattle.

Afterward, over cocktails, Aline broached a sensitive subject. “I do sometimes wonder if Carapace is still... what I mean is, she was still alive when we last saw her. But the damage was so bad and she vanished so completely...”

Bess looked at me, and I shrugged. “There could be any number of explanations. If she was hurt as badly as you said, maybe she decided it wasn’t worth it anymore.” I touched Bess’ thigh under the table. “Maybe she had finally found something worth living for and was tired of risking it.”

Elizabeth said, “Perhaps so. I know that if I was Carapace, I would have quit the moment I met my Aline.” She kissed Aline’s cheek, and then laughed. “As if I could have been Carapace! Can you imagine?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, trying to deflect. “When she first appeared I thought Aline was Carapace. How else could she get all those scoops, after all?”

Aline laughed and pointed at Bess. “I thought maybe her... occasionally the bad guys win in court, so she has to put on a mask to make sure they pay.”

“Drat, you’ve found me out,” Bess said. We all laughed at that, and she shook her head. “No. I’ll settle for putting the bad guys away legally, thank you very much. It’s infinitely safer that way.”

It had been ten months since I put on the Carapace mask. The further I got from it, the more it felt like a poorly-remembered dream. I continued my work and Bess continued hers. I fell in love with her over and over again, this time falling as myself rather than as half a person. 

We were returning from a late dinner at a nearby restaurant. She had been working ludicrous hours on a case that could send one of Stringer’s highest-ranking goons to prison for life. There was the opportunity for a deal in which he would turn on his peers in exchange for a lighter sentence, and Bess was trying her damnedest to make sure it happened. It was my job to make sure she ate regularly, slept a decent amount, and took care of herself.

“It’s ironic,” I said as I led her upstairs. “I try so hard to take Stringer down through force, and you manage it using the legal system. The proper way. Imagine that.”

She smiled. “My way is a bit slower. And a whole lot more tedious.”

“But you’re winning and you don’t even have to wear a mask. Not that anyone would cover up a face so beautiful.” 

I kissed her cheek and she laughed, squirming away from me when we reached the apartment. A folded slip of paper lay on the floor of the hall, and I assumed it had fallen from the clip where our landlord sometimes left missives when we were out. Bess was already fumbling with the keys so I unwound my arm from hers and crouched to pick it up. She slipped the key into the lock and twisted it as she looked back at me.

There was just enough time to read the large sloppy letters - “YOU SHOULD HAVE DROPPED THE CASE” - before the explosion. The flash was so bright it blinded me, everything going bright white and then momentarily black. I don’t remember being moved but I was suddenly lying flat upon my back a few inches away from where I had been crouching. I pushed myself up and looked in horror at the gaping maw of our apartment door, the edges of its dark opening licked with flames.

Bess.

She was crumpled on the floor, her body smoking. Everything in me seized as I looked in disbelief at this impossible thing. I didn’t feel cold, I felt absence, as if everything from my throat to thigh had been removed and filled with ice. I knelt beside her as other tenants appeared to see what had happened, but they might as well have been ghosts for all the attention I gave them. I touched Bess’ cheek and then felt for her pulse, my fingers instantly slick with her blood, but I refused to acknowledge it was real. The only real thing was the thread throb against my fingertips. 

As Carapace, I had been forced to summon extraordinary strength any number of times. I had to withstand punches and kicks, I had to deflect weapons with my arm and I had to run when most people would be too weak to stand. To protect my identity I had to endure broken bones and bruises muscles that I couldn’t explain away without revealing who I was. In the face of those feats, lifting my injured lover off the ground and carrying her out of the building was hardly scratching the surface of my capabilities.

I carried her all the way to the Underground. As soon as I was beneath the streets I began crying for Isaiah. The rats, formerly invisible to me, flooded out and trailed behind me like their namesakes. I didn’t pay them any attention until I got to Isaiah’s lab and gently deposited my lady, my heart, on the table. I pushed a variety of gewgaws out of the way but I didn’t care if they broke.

Isaiah appeared and froze on the threshold. “Good lord. What’s happened?”

“A bomb. Help her.”

“I... I ca--”

“She’s still alive. I felt her pulse.”

He looked at me, looked at Bess, and closed his eyes. “Sweetheart, you know I would do whatever was necessary to help you. But she’s... she’s hurt too badly.”

I fear that if I’d been wearing Carapace’s gauntlets I would have used them to blow him across the room. I would have torn the lab apart with my bare hands. I would have destroyed the Underground and watched Seattle collapse in on itself like kindling if it would have fixed Bess. If it would have changed which of us opened the goddamn door. My hands were trembling and coated with her blood. 

“Fix her.”

“I’m not sure that I can.”

I raised my eyes to his, and he tensed. I knew I must have looked like a monster to him; something inside of me, that civilized part of me that I’d fostered by living on the surface for the past few years, was gone. The rat in me clawed back to the surface and it was pissed.

“Then get my mask. I have work to do.”


	10. Chapter 10

They expected me to ask questions. After close to a year of silence, some of them simply gawked at me when I dropped in on their poker game. I stood on their table and they looked up at me like I was a magician about to perform. They didn’t even draw their weapons until I had kicked one of them in the face. My boot broke his jaw, and two teeth went flying as he tumbled backward. His friends armed themselves as I dropped down and held my arms out to either side. I swung my right arm forward as my left arm went back, as if I was shadow boxing, and a concussive force of energy whipped out in my wake.

Isaiah had been busy during my sojourn.

The men were thrown back long enough for me to jump down off the table. I stomped on the hands of the man whose face I had broken, then turned my attention to his friends. One of them brought his gun up, but a magnetic field produced by my new breastplate pulled the weapon to me. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed until the bones shifted. He wailed and I swung him like a bat into the man who had been approaching me from behind. They both fell. Two men were left. I opened a container on my belt, let a handful of ball bearings drop into my cupped palm, and hurled them out. They bounced across the floor and, on the first impact, blossomed into spinning discs with razor edges. They sliced through the man’s pant leg and removed him from the fight.

The last man standing held up his hands. “Let’s talk about--”

I grabbed his throat and squeezed. His eyes widened and I pulled him close so he could see the reflection of his own horrified face in my lenses. 

I broke his neck.

I had never killed before but I felt nothing as I dropped him to the ground. He was one of Stringer’s closest confidants so I knew he had more than enough blood on his hands to justify my actions. He was also a munitions expert. He could have planted the bomb in Bess’ apartments. For that, for the possibility of his involvement, he deserved to die and I deserved to do it.

I looked at the men I had disabled and chose one who seemed the most lucid. I picked him up, threw him onto the table, and placed my hand in the middle of his chest. 

“‘You made a mistake, Mr. Stringer. A horrible mistake. And you’ll pay for it. Carapace is back, and this time she won’t stop until your head is on a platter.’ Do you understand?”

He stammered. “I-I-I’m not Stringer.”

I repeated my message. Understanding flooded his face and he nodded, then repeated it back to me. It was close enough for my purposes. The man I’d given the message to was a locksmith. He could have broken into Bess’ apartment so his friend could leave the bomb for her. He didn’t need his hands to deliver his message. I very carefully and very slowly broke all of his fingers. I didn’t hear his screams; all I could hear was that explosion, the sharp intake of breath as Bess was blown back by its flame. All I could hear was Isaiah saying there was nothing he could do. I could hear Bess’ rough breathing as Isaiah did whatever small things he could muster in order to keep her alive just one minute longer. The man was lucky I didn’t take his hands off entirely for what he had done.

I left the shattered remains of the poker game, the remnants of its players moaning and weeping in pools of their own blood. When I was a fair distance away I peeled off my mask and bent double, throwing up in the sewer grate. I remained hunched over long after my dry heaves ended, wiping the tears from my eyes. Finally I stood up and looked at the blood spatter on my clothes. Nothing that wouldn’t wash out. Some of it might stain, of course, but that would be fine. Every warrior needed war paint.

I wanted Stringer to see me stained with the blood of his men when I finally came for him.

#

Through means I can’t relate here, I was privy to a conversation between Mordecai Stringer and Mayor Iverson. They didn’t know I was there or, more accurately, they had no idea the subject of their conversation was within earshot. It was one of the rare occasions I had Stringer in sight without my mask on. He looked at me only once, and in that look he conveyed no recognition or understanding. I hid my revulsion well but I dug my fingernails into my thigh to keep myself from leaping out of my seat and throttling the man.

“It has to be someone new. The Carapace from before, she was... she was reasonable. She would disable from time to time, but this attack was brutal. And why would she come back now?”

“Well, Mordecai, your little tank really did a number on her from what I heard. Maybe she needed this long to recover. And being close to death for this long, sheww. Might make anyone a little more bloodthirsty than they were before.”

Stringer shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think someone has put on the mask to pick up where the other one left off.”

I stood up and left. They were running scared, which was what I wanted, and I didn’t give a damn whether they decided I was the same Carapace or a new one. The mask was what mattered. I was their nightmare no matter how many people wore the suit. For the moment I had other pressing matters to deal with, and I could only do it while Stringer was occupied with the meeting. 

Sabine Reynaud was out of the car, leaning against the back quadrant to read a newspaper. I had no idea who was wearing the Stratagem suit when I was being beaten to a pulp, but Aline identified her for me afterward. Stringer’s driver, an ice-blonde woman who looked like she could hold her own in a fight even without the suit on. Today she wore a black suit over a white shirt with a button at the shirt collar. Her hair was up in a bun and topped with her cap, her legs crossed at the ankle as she read.

“Excuse me. Are you Mr. Stringer’s driver?”

She didn’t look up from the newsprint. “Yes.”

“They asked for you upstairs.”

This time she gave me her attention. “Why?”

I raised my eyebrow. “They didn’t give me a story, they just told me to come and get you.”

She stared at me a moment longer than I was comfortable with, then folded her paper and stood up. I envisioned putting my reinforced glove through her face, could vividly see the bloom of red blood pouring from her nose as I descended upon her. Punching, thrashing, tearing her apart before she even understood what was happening. But I put my hands behind my back and stepped out of her way. She folded the newspaper under her arm and disappeared into the building. 

My demeanor changed the moment she was out of sight. My eyes became stone, and I set my jaw as I hurried around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. My work was done quickly and, when it was finished, I went back to the sidewalk and waited. Sabine exited the building a few minutes later. She scanned the street as if she half-expected me to be gone, then grabbed the collar of my blazer.

“Excuse me!” I gasped, feigning offense.

“Why did you send me up there?”

My eyes were wide with faux terror. “I-I said... they told me...”

She slapped me and my vision went red. I saw myself slapping a bearing into her mouth, holding my hand over her lips, and watching as the razors tore up her cheeks and tongue. I imagined her spitting blood as I killed her. But instead I sobbed and shrank back against the building. 

“Are you slow? Is that it? You hear something and think you understand?”

I shuddered and protected my head. “Yes’m. Yes.”

I expected another blow, but suddenly she stroked the back of my head. “Oh, sweet girl. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you badly?”

Expecting a trick, I raised my head and looked at her. The fury was gone, replaced by genuine feeling. “You hurt my cheek.”

She stroked the spot she had moments ago slapped. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away.” Even her voice was different. My God, what was this woman? Mentally ill? Somehow broken by years working with Stringer? Oh, God. She was as much a victim of him as I was. Did she even understand what she had done to me all those months ago? 

“It’s okay,” I said. Even though it turned my stomach to say the words, I said, “I forgive you.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” The skin at the corners of her mouth tightened and I could tell she was moments away from another snap. I removed myself from her reach.

“I’m sorry for the miscommunication.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

I went back into the building before her dark side could reassert itself. If I hurried I could hear the rest of the meeting between Stringer and Mayor Iverson. It was hard to believe I felt any kind of sympathy toward the woman who had nearly killed me not long ago. It made me wonder how many other people employed by Stringer were in the same predicament, were simply broken souls he was taking advantage of. It wouldn’t weaken my resolve, but it definitely made me realize that I was going about things all wrong. I had been attacking Stringer’s men.

I needed to take the fight directly to the man himself.

#

I apologize, Aline, for what’s coming next. I’ll refrain from relating most of the gory details of what happens but there is one promise I cannot keep. In the course of the next confession I will reveal my true name to you. I apologize for breaking the trust but I feel it is something you must know. The horrible things I did following Bess’ injury... you must understand they were done by a person, by the human being under the mask. Those horrible things, and those yet to come, were all done by me. I won’t shirk my responsibility for them by remaining anonymous.

#

I moved back into the underground to stay with Bess. She was kept alive by machines that breathed for her, and Isaiah developed a mesh that would protect her skin from infection while she healed from her burns. The truly devastating injury was to her back. The force of the blast threw her into the wall hard enough to break her spine in two places. Even if she survived, she would never walk again. Sometimes she was awake but so in pain that Isaiah was forced to sedate her to the point where she couldn’t communicate. I spent these wakeful moments apologizing to her constantly. I hoped my sincerity made it through the haze.

When I left her, I always kissed her forehead and lips through the mesh mask draped over her burnt features. I curled my fingers against her cheek and promised her I would come back. 

The tracker I put in Stringer’s car alerted me when I was within a hundred yards of its current location. I patrolled the city until I got a ping on my wrist-mount, then I used the rudimentary map interface to get closer. I spotted it on a side street driving toward the harbor. It was easy enough to keep it in my sight given that it moved slowly and made frequent stops for pedestrians and animals. The vehicle finally reached its destination, a four-story building near the harbor. I crouched on a rooftop down the street and watched as he stepped out of the backseat and walked into the building. 

At every other stop, Sabine waited either in the car or propped up against its side. This time, however, she took her bag from the front seat and slung it over her shoulder as she walked away. This was it. Mordecai Stringer’s home. I stood up and move along the edge of the roof as stealthily as I could. When I put the uniform back on for the first time after my absence, I was worried I would have to relearn how everything worked. On the contrary, it felt like I was stepping back into a familiar pair of shoes. I stepped lively, and with three moves I made it from the roof to the street level.

Stringer’s lobby was protected by three goons with guns. I disarmed them quickly and quietly but didn’t kill them. Maybe meeting Sabine had affected me more than I thought, but I saw no reason to kill them for simply doing their jobs. They might not even have known what Stringer did for a living, although I found that difficult to believe. I restrained them with their own handcuffs and proceeded upstairs. I checked their records and learned that Stringer lived on the top floor.

I ascended carefully, using the stairs but remaining cognizant of sounds I was being pursued, corralled, or was otherwise at risk at being discovered. I reached the appropriate floor without incident and walked up to Stringer’s apartment. It felt odd to approach like any other guest, but I didn’t want to take the time to think up a more impressive entrance.

I wrapped my hand around the knob and released a burst of energy from my gauntlet. The lock buckled enough that I could shove it open without much force, bumping it out of the way with my shoulder as I entered Stringer’s home. I reached under my jacket and turned the magnetic charge of my vest to repel as I stepped into the open space of my enemy’s living room.

He fired before I saw him, and the field around me forced his bullets to swing wildly into the wall and bookshelf. I turned and saw him moving to duck into a hallway from the kitchen. I fired and hit the center island, knocking it into his path. He was moving too quickly to stop and slammed into it, giving me a second to close the distance between us. He brought the gun up again but I slapped it away from him, punched him in the gut, and grabbed the collar of his shirt to haul him up.

“Elizabeth Keaton,” I said. 

Stringer furrowed his brow. “The lawyer bitch?”

I honestly don’t know what I did. My next memory is standing over Stringer, blood on my left glove and his hands cupped over his nose. When he spoke his voice was whiny and nasal.

“We tried to be reasonable with her!” he shouted. “She refused.”

“She was only doing her job.”

He laughed and examined his bloody hands. “She should have done her job the way we told her to do it. It would have paid a lot better.”

I lifted my boot and dropped his hard on his leg. He howled. “I don’t care if you’re wearing that mask. I’ll find you. And I’ll make you pay for violating my home this way. I will find you.”

“Let me make it easy on you.” I reached back and unfastened the strings of my mask. He frowned up at me, as if he expected a trick. I peeled the mask away from my face, sweeping away bangs that had been stuck to my forehead with sweat. I could see him struggling to place me, so I gave him the answer he sought. “My name is Cecily Hollister. I’m Mayor Iverson’s secretary.”

He laughed and shook his head. “What a... what... no wonder you always seemed to be one step ahead of us. Quin probably talked right in front of you all the time without even thinking about it. Goddamn it. I’ll have to have a word with him.” He looked up at me again. “Unmasking yourself was a stupid move, Miss Hollister.”

“I disagree,” I said. “Revealing my identity now doesn’t matter.”

“And why exactly is that?”

“Because either I kill you and the secret doesn’t go any further, or you kill me and it doesn’t matter if you tell the whole world who I was. Either way, one of us isn’t leaving this room alive.”

He chuckled. “You may have the upper hand now,” he said, “but I wouldn’t get too cocky.”

I slipped out of my jacket and let it drop to the floor. I backed up so he could get back to his feet and motioned him to come at me.

“This will end badly for you, Cecily.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

He shoved off the counter and lunged at me with a primal growl. I envisioned Bess’ blood on my hands, saw her slack lips and ruined features, heard her quiet sounds of pain made even while unconscious, and I found the strength for what had to be done. I had been charging my gauntlets since I entered Stringer’s apartment. When he was in range I brought both arms up and swung them out in a wide arc as if I was trying to clap my hands. His head was between them when I discharged both simultaneously. The resulting explosion was strong enough to throw me off my feet. I landed on the carpet, arms up in preparation of a counterattack in case my timing had been slightly off.

It wasn’t.

I stood and regarded Mordecai Stringer’s remains. He was charred from the shoulders up, his head an unrecognizable lump. His limbs were still twitching but I had no doubt he was fully deceased. I sagged against the wall and closed my eyes, my hands braced on my knees as I came to terms with what I had just done. I looked at Stringer’s remains and reflected on myself to find any shred of remorse. I found none.

I pushed myself away from the wall and began the process of disposing of Mordecai Stringer’s body.


	11. Chapter 11

Isaiah touched my arm, startling me awake. I was lying on the floor in his lab where I had been since the night I murdered Stringer. The rats had started coming back to me in dribs and drabs. One or two would flitter past the door and peek in when they thought I was distracted. Others would bring me food and leave it on the counter before scurrying away. The more they became familiar with me, the longer they stayed. It was clear I only cared about Bess, and they treated me like another patient in Isaiah’s care. 

One of them brought me a newspaper with the exclusive of Stringer’s death. I was proud to see that Aline had gotten the story. She said the police had concluded members of a rival gang had finally taken him out so they could usurp his position as the city’s crime king. In retrospect I wish I would have left evidence of his collusion with Mayor Iverson, but in the moment I’d been far too focused on revenge to think clearly. 

Isaiah politely asked if I would leave the room. He occasionally did this when he had to test something, or if he was going to have a sensitive conversation with Bess about her care. I knew there were times when she wanted to die, when she wanted the machines to be disconnected so she could pass on like a human being. I knew most of the time she was only holding on for me, and the thought of her being in pain just because I couldn’t let her go... 

I wish I could have been stronger. I wish I could have been brave enough to let her go. But I was a weak coward, and every second she was still breathing was precious to me. After they spoke, Isaiah came to find me. He smiled gently and sat me down. I braced myself for news that Bess had reached a point of no return. I closed my eyes and dug deep for the strength I would need in order to nod. Stringer had died, and Bess outlived him. That wasn’t justice, but it would have to suffice.

“As you know, there’s no way I can heal Elizabeth’s spine. Even if I had the resources of the City Hospital, the most we would be able to do is... manage her paralysis. The machines will still be required to monitor her health for the foreseeable future. If her heart were to stop or... if any number of things were to go wrong... they can sort of jumpstart things to bring her back.”

“So she’ll be living on that table for the rest of her life,” I whispered. That was no kind of a life. I had to let her go.

Isaiah took my hand. “There is another option.”

I frowned and looked at him. “You just said...”

He said, “I spoke to Bess about the possibility, and she said it was something she would have to discuss with you. Going ahead with the procedure would be a major change. She would never have the same life as before, although she could conceivably still practice law. She could still be your lover. But there would be adjustments that have to be made.” He let go of my hand. “She’s waiting for you.”

I kissed his cheek and went into the lab. Bess smiled when she saw me, and as always I looked past the contraptions keeping her on this side of the mortal coil. I took her hand and sat down without breaking eye contact. I spoke first.

“I want you. No matter what that entails.”

Bess said, “It will be a lot of work, especially at first. A lot of adjustment.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care. If you want to go through with whatever Isaiah is suggesting, I’m going to be there a hundred percent. You can count on that.”

She smiled. “I love you, Cecily.”

“I love you, too.” I kissed her knuckles. “Please do it. Nothing matters if you’re not here.”

“And it wouldn’t be worth it if you weren’t sticking around. So... for you...”

I laughed. “Thank you.”

“Go. Tell him I’m ready.”

I kissed her lips and went to find Isaiah so he could explain this mysterious procedure.

#

The contraption was far too bulky, too technologically weird, too obvious, for Bess to wear in public. A pair of silver stirrups cupped the back of her heels and clung to the arch of her foot like the soles of a boot. Metal struts ran up either side of both legs, bracketed at the knee before continuing on up to her hips. A belt bridged the two leg pieces and formed them into a single exoskeleton that extended up the center of her back. Isaiah had inserted a power pack on her spine around the damage caused by the explosion. It would keep her heart beating, her lungs breathing, and all other vital organs operating under normal parameters. It also translated signals from her brain to mechanisms in her new metallic joints that enabled her to walk. Currently she was still learning how it all worked. She lurked and stomped across the apartment like a marionette operated by a drunk, and more often than not her experiments ended with her collapsing in my arms.

But she laughed when she fell, and she kissed my neck when I carried her to bed because she was too exhausted to take herself. As Isaiah predicted, our love life was unaffected by the change in her condition. She could still feel me, and the things I did to her, and she was able to drive me up the wall with little effort. As long as she could move her little finger, I had a feeling I would always be her slave.

Her burns healed. Her hair grew back. She got better at walking, but as I said earlier there was no way for her to wear her exoskeleton out in public without explaining where she had gotten it. She accepted the fact she would be confined to a wheelchair whenever she wasn’t in the privacy of our apartment - yes, we found a larger place to accommodate us and we moved in together - and she returned to work.

But I promised you an origin story. I told you how and why I became Carapace at the very beginning, but I wasn’t telling my story. I was telling the story of Bess. 

To help facilitate her healing, she wore a pale white mask over her face while she slept. She found it soothing after a long day to put it on, so I humored her when she wanted to wear it around the house. Once she learned how to walk with the exoskeleton, she began to experiment with its other capabilities. Isaiah only wanted to ensure she was capable of a full range of motion, but in giving her that freedom, he had opened up so many other possibilities.

One evening I was cooking dinner when Bess called me from the living room. “Dear heart?”

“Yes?”

“Are there steel girders in this building?”

I had no earthly clue, but after the fire many buildings were constructed with different metals instead of wood. I went to see why she would ask such a bizarre question and froze in my tracks.

She was standing on the ceiling, her hair hanging down, her arms dangling over her head, her eyes wide as she stared at me. 

“It would seem my boots are magnetic,” she said, her calm tinged with mania. 

I managed to get her down with a bit of maneuvering, and she fell into my arms. After the initial shock wore off she began trying to duplicate the event on purpose. She walked up the wall, across the ceiling, and I trailed along underneath to catch her if she fell. Once she realized the magnetic seal would hold, she started running in circles around the ceiling faster than I could keep up. She only fell twice, and both times she chided herself for taking both feet off the ceiling at the same time. 

One night I came home from work to find her standing on the ceiling dressed all in black, her face covered by her mask, arms akimbo. She didn’t even have to speak for me to know what she was implying, and I shook my head as I shut the door.

“No.”

“It’s not the most ridiculous idea--”

“No!” I held my arms out to her. “Come down from there.”

She said, “I want to be called Spider Woman.”

I grimaced and shook my head. “That’s ridiculous. And the newspapers will probably decide what your name is, anyway. You think I chose Carapace?”

“Fine then. We’ll wait to see what they say before having business cards printed up.”

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“Who says you have to agree? I didn’t agree for you to be Carapace, I just live with it. I’m not asking for permission.”

She walked forward and looked up... down... at me. I looked up at her. I was still going out as Carapace some nights, but lately the gangs were doing a good job of only beating each other up. Innocents were still occasionally caught in the crossfire, but the police were coming out of their bribery-induced fugue to pick up the slack. Without Stringer to play chess with everyone in the city, the pieces had taken on minds of their own. Things were getting better.

“I don’t need a sidekick.”

“Then a partner.”

I rolled my eyes and walked away from her. “If you fall, I won’t catch you.”

“Do you mean that?”

I stopped at the door to the kitchen. “No. Of course I don’t mean that, Bessie. I’ll always catch you. Every time.” I looked back at her. “Is this what you want?”

She gestured at herself. “I didn’t ask to end up like this. Maybe I survived the explosion for a reason. And it would give me a way to keep an eye on you when you’re out at night. It’ll be a lot easier than lying awake and wondering.”

“You’re a handful, Elizabeth Keaton.”

“I hope your hands can handle me.”

I laughed and turned around. She crossed the ceiling, and I held my arms out to catch her.


End file.
